Ophelia
by 63danielsgirl
Summary: All rights belong to DreamWorks Animation and myself. Ophelia was a young witch in Crone's Nest, casting hexes and living a typical life. Then an ogress, a dronkey, and a talking gray tabby cat showed up and asked for a witch to join them on a mission to restore the balance of good and evil so that all stories can exist. But not everyone wants a true happily-ever-after.
1. Prologue

Prologue

A leathery volume engraved with a faded coat-of-arms of lions and star-framed crosses lies on a patch of fresh grass scattered with petals. The volume opens on its own, revealing a large illustration akin to Medieval art of a blue-clad princess with a demure expression in a hilly meadow beside a castle.

A grandfatherly baritone voice with a British accent begins to read the book aloud. "Once upon a time, there was a lovely princess—"

A _screech_ sounds, as if a needle is scratched across a record.

"Wait a minute!" a nasally tight and very American tenor voice snaps. "The audience has heard that story before! How about something they _haven't_ heard of? Give them the other book! You know what, I'm gonna get it myself."

The brown volume closes, lifts, and quickly flies away from view.

A burgundy volume of fresher leather floats down in its place. It has a white-circled black cameo of a cat in a wide-brimmed, feathered hat upon its cover.

 _"Puss in Boots?"_ the first voice notes. "Why don't we read something new?"

The burgundy book floats away, and down comes a velvety green volume with gold inlay that makes an emerald heart-shaped necklace appear to be on the cover.

"But-but that's, you know, the _girl_ book," the second voice stammers.

"This whole story started with 'don't judge a book by its cover,' you fool!" snapped the first voice. "It's time you broaden your scope of literature."

"Okay," the second voice resigns, "But it won't be my fault if no one likes it."

The green volume opens, revealing an illustration of the same style as the brown volume's. But this illustration is of a plump, winged woman in a sparkling red voluptuous dress and narrow scarlet cat-eye spectacles. She holds up a wand topped by a star, and is smiling in a saccharine way down at a valley dotted with houses and a large castle.

"Once upon a time," the first voice reads aloud again, "In the land of Far Far Away, there was a fairy godmother."

The page turns to a new illustration, where the Fairy Godmother places a hand on the shoulder of a knight with a puffed-out chest and a pompous grin. Her other hand points up to a tower, where a princess similar to the one in the brown volume stands on the tower's balcony.

But while the princess in the brown volume wore a blue gown and a sweet expression, this princess wears a pink dress and an expression of melodramatic horror.

"She used her strongest magic to give the people a happily-ever-after meant to last forever," the first voice continues, "One about the knight saving the princess from the dragon."

The page turns to show a dark forest of spearing pines and crooked maples where the Fairy Godmother blasts fleeing ogres with her wand while witches fly behind her, their faces and eyes downcast. The Fairy Godmother's dress has a hellish gleam to it, and her eyes are icy pinpricks above her red-framed bared teeth.

"But she wanted all magic under her control," the voice tightened, "And hated when any ugliness disrupted the beauty she sought to maintain."

The page turns to a picture of peasants with wide grins on a sunlit hill under a golden sky, cheering up to the Fairy Godmother, who tries to make her gloating look humble.

"When she controlled all magic, she rid the land of darkness," hope returned to the voice.

The page flips to a double page-illustration with a simple backdrop of parchment.

The Fairy Godmother stands between a couple, but a little to the right, her eyes tense above a forced smile.

A princess with blonde ringlets and a gold dress stands on one side. She plumps up her hair in front of a hand-held mirror, her lips pursed and eyelids lowered in a snobbish expression.

"And she believed that wealth and appearance were all that mattered for a happy ending," the voice lowered again.

On the other side, a prince with wavy brown hair turns away from the princess. He clutches and lifts a heart pendant that is as emerald as his eyes.

"But a kind young prince cared for none of those things, as he wished to marry the one his heart chose," strength rose into the voice. Then, the voice darkened again. "The Fairy Godmother forbid it."

The page turns to two pages with different illustrations.

In the first picture, the Fairy Godmother lurks in the deep gray-blue surroundings of a forest. She looks to the side as if fearing discovery, but a cold smile curves up the corners of her mouth. She holds out a slime-green bottle with a skull stopper to a muscular man in a long black cloak, whose hood casts his face into shadow.

He reaches out a leather-gloved hand, and his twisted body reveals a bow and quiver upon his back.

A figure stands beside a horse in a clearing in the background. While the darkness transforms the figure into a near-silhouette, the figure's outline has the prince's distinct wavy hair.

"When the prince sought true love against her wishes," the first voice lowers and sharpens, "She struck him down with a wicked spell."

The second picture shows the prince who had turned away from the princess. He lies upon a bed framed by blue curtains, his eyes closed in sleep as he holds a single white lily upon his diaphragm.

The window behind him reveals a shadowy, stormy sky, broken by a bolt of lightning and a rising wave.

"The Fairy Godmother's actions rid the land of light," sadness replaces anger in the first narrator's voice. "Though the people never knew evil, they never knew true good, either."

The page turns to an image of a witch with pale olive skin and dark, curly hair.

"For three hundred years, it remained so…until one would restore light and darkness. For when both exist, the stories will never end."

The page flips to an painting of rolling hills under a blue sky.

The image expands, and the book is forgotten.

The painted grass becomes a calm ocean of green strands.

The clouds in the painted sky gain depth and become mobile.

Below the hills, there is a small, rocky valley ringed by a thick forest of sharp trees. The valley grows closer, revealing a small series of crooked houses, a run-down manor, several caravans, and, dotted here and there, basic pine outhouses.

One outhouse comes into view, an outhouse with a curling heart carved into its door.

A tree stump stands beside the outhouse, and upon the stump sits a large frog with a bored expression on its face.

A title curls across the scene in large gold letters. This title is a single name; _Ophelia._

—


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Ophelia

 _Ribbit. Rrrr-ribbit._

"Hop off that stump, you nosy amphibian!" I barked through the door of the outhouse. "Geez," I grumbled, "Doesn't anyone know that it's impolite to disrupt another's privacy?"

I stood up, pulled up my bottoms, and washed up. I threw open the door in the frog's mucus-coated face with a _splat._ "Why do you always loiter near the outhouse?" I grumbled down at it as it limped out.

The frog puffed out its sack.

"You want to mate?" I raised an eyebrow. "Well, I've got bad news for you, Frog," I shook my head. "I'm a straight-A student in princeology. You can't trick me."

The frog deflated with the disappointing whimper of a balloon losing its air.

I mounted my broomstick and took off. "Time to cause some trouble," my eyes gleamed above a grin.

The slightly cloudy blue sky arched over me, and the rolling, rocky green hills were just below my feet.

I saw my first victim for magical mischief—and my breakfast. I summoned the early bird's picnic basket and helped myself to his sandwich on the fly. I threw the basket at a younger witch. "Enjoy the rest of the food."

And there was another kid around—my next victim. Judging by her excessively sunny disposition, she was part of that picnic I ruined. Time to rain on her parade. I conjured up a small storm cloud and cast it over her head.

The girl started crying as the fat droplets splattered her dress, and ran away screaming.

Cackling, I flew away. I soared through the trees and to the river, sending bluebirds and squirrels scattering frantically. When I skimmed my leather-booted toes through the water, the unlucky fish near the surface who looked up at me swam away, their fins a blur. I flew up a few feet and did tricks on my broom, standing upon it and rolling it over. I did a U-turn and flew back, straight to the witch's settlement of Crone's Nest, the place I called home. I went past the river to its dam, then to a stretch of grass beyond the dam. Gradually, the grass dried and shortened into a wide, dusty dirt path.

 _Crack._ A large foot snapped a thick log in two.

I froze in midair and zipped behind a tree. Who was this?

A creature the size of a griffin loped down the path. It was covered in crimson scales, had matching bat-like wings, and large green eyes that stared blankly in both directions. Definitely a dragon, though a funny-looking one.

A saddle was strapped around its middle, and a round gray tabby cat sat upon its back. The cat wore a feathered hat, boots, épée, and a cobalt-gray tabard trimmed in gold, like one worn by a Musketeer.

A harness looped around the dragon's muzzle and its reins trailed down into the square green hand of a young ogress. If her face wasn't wide-eyed and spotted with pimples, I would've assumed she was full-grown. She was already six feet tall; she had to be at least fifteen.

A dragon? An ogress? A sword-wielding cat? Heading to Crone's Nest?

"Uh oh," I muttered as I burrowed into the branches. If the other witches found these intruders, they wouldn't be happy.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Felicia?" The cat turned to the ogress.

"It'll be fine, Timmy," Felicia gave a light chuckle with a Scottish accent. "They've never bothered me family, we've never bothered them, I'm quite sure we can get along."

"But they might take over our whole mission to restore darkness and excitement to Far Far Away!" Timmy held out a paw. "I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I am smart enough to know that those witches will walk all over us because their kind created yours!"

That was true. Witches got a little too close to frogs, and ogres were born.

"After all the trouble the Fairy Godmother put our kinds through," Felicia pushed back stray strands from her loose ponytail, "Who created whom won't matter that much."

"But what if they turn us into frogs?" Timmy clutched his plump cheeks. "You may not see that as a big deal, being part frog and all. I, on the other paw—"

"Watch it," Felicia seized the dragon's reins and pulled it away from bumping its snout into an oak tree.

These guys wanted to "restore darkness and excitement to Far Far Away?" And charging in here to do it? Someone had to tell them they couldn't just barge in. And I had to be the one to do it.

I flew out of the tree and landed in front of them. "What are you three doing around Crone's Nest?" I dismounted.

"We don't mean any trouble," Felicia raised her hand. "Well, we sort of do, but—it's awfully hard to explain…"

"Explain it to the High Witch," I blasted explosive red sparks in the air. "Intruders here ought to have reasons for coming in."

Baba Yaga flew towards us in her barrel-sized mortar and pestle, rowing the mortar with her pestle like she was rowing a canoe. She halted her mortar, laid down the pestle, climbed out of the mortar, and stumped towards us, the pale green wart of her protuberant nose sticking right at me. "Ophelia Willow Postington," her eyes narrowed, "I saw you sent the alarm."

"I wanted to let you know we've got intruders," I pointed to the group.

"Do you know who these creatures are?" Her eyes followed my finger. "What are they doing here?"

"I just met them myself," I replied. "I have no clue what's brought an ogress, a cat, and a…" I looked at the strange hybrid creature. "Dragon-donkey to Crone's Nest."

"Well, excuse me," the ogress stepped in. "I'll take care of introductions. I'm Felicia, this is my dronkey, Bananas, and this is my cat, Timmy."

"Which is short for Sir Timoteo Montenegro III!" the cat bowed low with a sweeping doff of his hat. "It is a pleasure to meet both of you ladies." He took my hand in his white paw and gave it a scratchy kiss, then he did the same to Baba. _"Enchante."_

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too," she withdrew her hand. "But why _have_ you all come here?"

"We came here because I want to unite our kinds," Felicia explained. "Bring back the darkness to let _real_ stories be told. The little ogres at the swamp are getting so bored with the same bland stories told again and again."

The little witches here could relate. There were only so many times you could tell _Hansel and Gretel_ before the gingerbread house grew stale.

"But why do you care so much about us?" Baba pointed to herself and me. "Witches and ogres don't usually get along thanks to the Fairy Godmother forcing my kind to exile yours."

"Well, at first I _was_ just thinking of my own kind," Felicia shrugged. "I'm one of few ogres to have a full childhood with my family now that my dad's brought the ogres together from their exile. He's Shrek, the ogre hero," her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of green. "I found out that you had similar struggles. So, I thought, because of that and witches chasing ogres into exile, maybe we can try to—get back together? Try to forgive?"

"But why are you here at _this_ settlement?" Baba raised her wrinkled, pale green chin to look into Felicia's eyes.

"Geography, mostly," she scratched behind her head. "But as your witches don't have a problem with the swamp a few miles away, I thought I could ask you for a…representative. An ogress can't ally witches to her kind without a witch to help her."

"Hmm," Baba tucked a strand of wild white hair behind her drooping ear. "I shall gather the council to discuss this. Felicia, you and your friends should join us."

Oh boy. Now those intruders would have to give a speech in front of _everyone._

—


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Felicia

Dad told me talking to witches might be difficult. He said the ones he ran into preferred to throw magic bombs first and ask questions later.

At least the ones I'd seen were different. But I had only seen two witches.

Baba Yaga and Ophelia flew in front.

I pulled Bananas along behind them.

"I think we are headed for worse than becoming frogs," Timmy's claws nearly jabbed through my boot.

"They just want us to explain to the other witches why we're here," I tried to keep calm as I moved my heavier leg forward. "You _aren't_ going to do anything to us after we tell the other witches, are you?" I glanced at Ophelia, who glided a little ahead of me.

"If I was the High Witch, I'd blast you all out on your rears," she grunted. "But it's Baba Yaga's call."

We marched from the wide, dusty path onto a gathering of small hills and surrounding green.

Half-ruined houses of various sizes jutted about.

Baba Yaga and Ophelia weaved us around smaller houses and up to the side door of a manor with peeling blue paint.

"Lead them in," Baba Yaga nodded to Ophelia. "I'll tell the others."

"Yes, ma'am," she pulled the door open.

Baba Yaga rowed away in her pestle.

Ophelia looked back at us. "Get in there and behind that podium," she pointed inside and slipped in.

I caught the door after her and peered inside.

A circular, dim auditorium lay ahead, full of stacked rows of leather seats set into deep mahogany wood. The seats curved around a podium like the coils of a giant snake.

Ophelia's figure shrunk as she took a seat in the back.

"You first, Bananas," I held the door for him.

Bananas tried to stick himself through the door, but he couldn't push his middle through.

"Looks like you'll have to sit outside," I tugged him out and led him away a few feet.

He plopped down with a low whimper.

Timmy released my boot.

"See you soon," I turned around. "But you're coming with me, Timmy," I shot a look back at him.

"As you wish," he dragged his boots after me.

I squeezed through the door and lightly stepped upon the wooden floor up to the podium.

Timmy crept up beside me.

Soon, side doors opened, and dozens of witches streamed into the auditorium with low chatter.

"That's an ogress, all right," one of the younger witches glanced at me as she and her friend took front seats. "I wonder what Baba Yaga will do to her."

"The fact that we've been called to an assembly means _something's_ going on," her friend raised a warty finger. "This ogress can't be a wandering scavenger."

"If I was tall enough to be seen over that thing," Timmy hopped up and down, "I would show them exactly who we are and what we are doing!"

"Baba Yaga's going to do that," I watched her thump up in front of the podium, almost unrecognizable without her mortar and pestle.

She _banged_ the same red sparks Ophelia shot when she met us.

The witches fell silent and took their seats.

"Witches of Crone's Nest," Baba Yaga scanned the crowd. "I am sure most of you are wondering why I have arranged this assembly. As you can see," she swept her arm to me, "An ogress has entered our settlement."

"Big deal," one of the witches in the middle mumbled. "Ogres wander in here twice a month."

"As ogres entering our land from their swamp is fairly common," she raised her voice, "All of you must want to ask me why I have made a fuss about this one. This ogress wants to unite us with her kind to restore the darkness. Forgive our past conflict for the common goal of regaining our true powers. Is that true?" She glanced at me.

All eyes narrowed in on me like the arrows of Saint Sebastian's firing squad.

My head went blank. What was I going to say? "Uh, yeah," I gulped. "I want us to run and, er, fly all over the place again. But I'm not really alone in this whole…idea," I gripped the podium, "My dronkey and cat came with me."

Mutters rose from the seats again.

"A dronkey and a cat? She has to be part of that princess's litter."

"Explains the impossible dream."

Apparently some of the witches had heard of Mum and Dad's adventures.

"Okay, I know that in the past three centuries, the ogres and witches have not been the best of friends," I breathed in. "But I heard of a time when we were allies, creatures of the dark who brought conflict to the world so that true heroes might rise and epics be written. The ogres and fairytale creatures at my swamp want to break this bland status quo for good and evil, but to do that, we need your help." My back loosened. "Come on," I raised my hands, "Are you happy just scaring villagers? Don't you want to wrangle knights?"

"I wouldn't mind wrangling a knight," a naughty smile came to the face of a witch in front.

"Always had a dream to be the next Medea," another witch adjusted her overlarge goggles.

"All right," my eyes lifted. "Looks like we're closer than we thought." Phew. That wasn't so bad.

"We do have the same dream of a rule of darkness," Baba Yaga's eyes trailed from the witches to me, "But those times have changed, Felicia," she countered. "Now, all humans live in a so-called 'big, bright beautiful world' where everything is the same. Our kinds have been driven apart to remote territories, and we all live in small groups."

"Or alone," I added. "At least you witches always have communities."

"But you ogres are allowed to love, if only to other ogres."

"Do you want our kinds to be apart?" I leaned forward. I had to say this in a fancy way so they'd pay attention to it. "Do you want a static world for the humans, no matter how big, bright, and beautiful it might be?"

"I agree with you in desiring a changing world," Baba Yaga nodded. "All my life, I have sought to take after my ancestors, who turned the humblest people into heroes. Today, people who might be honored as new leaders of great stories are limited to the roles thrust upon them by an excessively exclusive tradition. Still, has anyone gone against the tradition that has been in place for three hundred years? That every story must have a knight who saves the princess and defeats the dragon?"

"My parents went against it," I replied. "My father was an ogre whose donkey wooed the dragon, allowing him to save the princess, who turned out to be a cursed ogress. If you or one of your group joins me in restoring darkness, perhaps new stories can be told." I looked at Ophelia, who was grooming her long nails with an emery board. She could almost pass as one of the village girls I liked to sneak up on and scare while they were gushing and ranting over their daily dramas and desires. "Like a story of a witch rescuing a prince."

 _"Hah!"_ Ophelia interrupted with a cackle, thumping her fist on the arm of her seat. She half-turned around and called to the witches behind her. "Did you hear that, Ladies?"

Shrieking laughter spread across the auditorium.

"Now, quiet down," Baba Yaga hushed the audience. She returned to me. "Pardon them, we simply have a few doubts."

"My family story _is_ true," I put my fists on my hips.

"Oh, I have no doubt of it," she chuckled. "It's just that the story you suggested—it can't work."

"Okay," I rubbed my chin. "I just meant—you could do something big. Shake up the status quo."

"Now you're talking," she leaned forward. "Stirring things up is what witches do, pardon the pun."

Titters scattered the auditorium again.

"Yes, the epic stories need to return," she firmed herself, "And that requires restoring the darkness."

"I'm here to bring that balance back," I raised my round chin. "Who of your kind do you think should help me unite the darkness? To better bring our kinds together?"

"For a helper of my kind, I was thinking…" Baba Yaga's eyes traced across the auditorium, and halted at Ophelia, who was still filing and scouring her nails like a damsel. "…perhaps the witch who bumped into you. Ophelia."

My head emptied again for a second, but quickly refilled. At least I knew Ophelia a little.

 _"Me?"_ Ophelia's voice rose again from the hall. "Why me?" She pointed two long fingers to herself, her hazel eyes wide with disbelief.

"There is something you need to do to fulfill your witch training," Baba Yaga dangled a carrot in front of the rabbit. "You haven't done your necromancy practicum yet. Has it been hard for you to find an object with a lost owner?"

Ophelia paused. "No," she waved her hand quickly. "There are plenty of antiques around this place. It's just…" her voice trailed away, "What do I need to make the potion for the ritual again? And how does the practicum even relate to this—mission?"

"This quest may help you find what you need to harness a phantom to serve you. If you succeed, you will have your first totem—and the brew you need for the ritual will give you a passing grade on Potions."

"All right, I'm in," Ophelia slouched down. "Oh, Hecate," she muttered to herself and face-palmed. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

So, we were both stuck together for our own goals.

"Don't worry," Timmy patted my leg. "I am sure she will not mind when she realizes she will be traveling with a charming cat."

—


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Ophelia

Anything for an Acceptable in Potions. Why did that list of ingredients have to be half a foot long? I couldn't juggle all those bottles, whether the directions were given fast or slow. Could this quest show me the spell book I needed to actually understand how to concoct that darn thing? Why couldn't I be as good at potion-brewing as I was in wand-waving?

"I didn't expect you'd take my offer," Baba Yaga came up to me as I slipped out of my row. "Though I'm glad you did, and for your studies." She pulled out a black book with the silver title _Necromancy for Dummies._ "Now, as you're leaving tomorrow, a quick little review of types of specters. You'll need to know exactly how well your summoning went, because a failure may look like a success, and vice versa." She flipped open the book. "What are the three types of specter?"

Great, a pop quiz. My stomach growled impatiently. "The three types of specters are ghosts, poltergeists, and astral projections," I spat out. "Ghosts are souls of the dead who remain on Earth due to unfinished business," I held up one finger, "Poltergeists are mischievous, invisible ghosts who move objects," I held up another finger, "And astral projections are souls of the living who are separated from their bodies by magic," I held up a third finger. "I'm supposed to summon a ghost for the practicum. Goodbye!" I dropped my fingers and zipped off.

"What do they all look like?" Baba Yaga called behind me. "And what do you do if you accidentally summon a poltergeist instead of a ghost?"

"You exorcise them!" I snapped out the answer.

"And an astral projection?"

"You return them to their body!" I waved my hand. "Baba Yaga," I slumped and turned back to her, "Why _did_ you choose me in the first place? I'm not some big witch like Medea or Morgan Le Fay; I'm just an apprentice."

"True," Baba nodded with a finger to her chin. "But this mission could make you more. If you restore darkness, you could become a great witch yourself."

Gain greatness from bringing back the dark? If I did restore darkness…I'd be a force behind a resurgence of terror. Ophelia, the restorer of All Evil! And restoring darkness as an apprentice would only build my fearful reputation. "I like that," I began to smile. "And all while completing my practicum. On that," I scratched my curls, "Are there any specific items I should look out for? Anything to avoid?"

"Go with anything that's not a voodoo item," Baba instructed with a sharp finger. "Those things have astral projections."

"Got it, thanks." I halted. "Wait," I turned around. "About me being the whole representative of witches and all that. You sure I can do that job? Take off all this stuff," I doffed my pointed hat, "And I just look like a gangly, goose-footed girl."

"Then, you must rely on things beyond your appearance," her eyes narrowed.

So, this was a test of magical power, was it? "Is there any other reason why you chose me?"

"Perhaps there are things out there that only you can learn," she gave me an enigmatic look. "Now, you were headed for lunch?"

Right. My stomach reminded me. And I needed to go to my dormitory after that to pack. Things out there only I could learn? I loped out of the auditorium, but let the door fall hard behind me. What could they be? Was this about me being different from everyone, including the other witches? Sometimes, looking back, there did seem to be a missing piece in my life; the question of how I got here. I stepped outside to see the wicker door of the cat hutch fly open.

Yowling black cats tossed Timmy out.

He yelped as he landed on his face in a scraping fall. His tail and round behind stuck up in the air.

"Timmy!" Felicia hurried over, followed by Bananas. "Are you okay?"

The door _whacked_ shut behind him over hisses inside.

 _"Sí,"_ he pushed himself up, spat out a few pebbles, and licked himself. "Those raven-furred ladies sure play hard to get."

Felicia snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Well, hi again," I shrugged. "As I'm gonna be stuck with you all for a week, I suppose, I guess I should start getting to know you. So, how'd you all meet?"

"Bananas and I are practically cousins," Felicia stroked the dronkey. "He and his siblings visit my family's swamp a lot. Bananas and I met Timmy on the road to Crone's Nest."

"I am trying to prove myself as an individual," Timmy explained with an arc wave of his paw. "I was originally a royal bodyguard of Queen Alessandra Belagomba. But I was rather clumsy and slow in more ways than one—I still am—and so my brother and sister doubted my ability to be a true guard. Now, I have been traveling to see what I can do, but I'm not sure I'll be anything on my own. I sought my mentor, Puss in Boots, and found he lived in a swamp with ogres. I came to the swamp, met Felicia, and heard about her plan to go out and restore good and evil," he looked up at her. "I couldn't resist the chance for a quest, and Puss told me this could be my chance to earn my honor. So, here I am. But my honor has yet to arrive," he lowered his head.

"I'm sure you'll get it," Felicia patted his furry shoulder. "I had some trouble with being tough at my swamp, being a girl with two brothers. And Bananas is the oddball of his litter, too."

That was pretty obvious, seeing his wall-eyes.

"You know," I reached a hand under my curls, "I don't really have a family—not in any sort of _unit_ way, but I'm the oddball of my group, too. I-I don't really like to talk about it, but I'm not like the other witches."

"I get that," she raised her hand. "My mom was cursed to be a human princess—long story—so, I'm kinda stuck between two worlds."

I could see that a little in her lacy pink blouse. But it was dotted with mud and looked utilitarian on her curvy green frame. "Consider yourself lucky your human side doesn't show," I shook my head down at my normal-looking skin.

"Say," Felicia's wide blue eyes narrowed a little as she looked down at me. "Could your oddball nature be why, talking about what happened in the auditorium, you made such a big deal about laughing at my idea that a witch could rescue a prince?"

Black cat hairballs. "The other witches think it's ridiculous, too," I quickly pointed out. "Even Baba Yaga told you it couldn't work. Why do you think it has anything to do with my weakness? Do you think I was just trying to cover up?"

"The lady doth protest too much," Timmy hissed up at Felicia, hiding his mouth with a paw.

"I heard that! What's that supposed to mean?" The mercury in the thermometer raised a centimeter.

"It means you say you don't like something, when you really do—a lot," he waggled his furry eyebrows.

"Well, even if I _did,"_ I half-threw up my arms, "I can't do anything about it."

"Why not?" He held up a paw.

"Because witches can't love," I slouched on my knees. "That's the rule. It's been true for hundreds of years."

"Three hundred years?" Felicia offered.

"Probably—hey!" I snapped. "Quit the counter-argument! "All right," I leaned forward, "Let's change the subject. What's your plan about how to unite the witches?"

"I think I might know where to find some information about where they live," she touched her chin. "My dad broke into the Fairy Godmother's potion factory. There could be records there."

"Sounds like a good start," I nodded. "Where's this factory?"

"In Far Far Away, about…" her eyes trailed off. "700 miles away."

My mouth dropped open. _"700 miles away?!"_

"Or more, judging by Crone's Nest being a few miles away from my swamp," her mouth tightened.

"Black cat hairballs," I buried my face in my hands. I couldn't turn down this lead. Anything to get this mission over with. "Well, if this factory can give us anything, I'm going with it. But am I glad that we can fly!"

"Flying…" she tapped her square fingertips together, "You know, there might be a shortcut."

A shortcut? My heart jumped up. "What does it involve?"

"If we fly around the mountain rather than going up and down it on the main road," Felicia made a spiral in the air with her finger, "We'll save a bunch of time getting to the factory, and we'll stay out of the big city."

"Okay, you got a point there," I nodded.

"What do you think, Timmy?" Felicia turned down to the cat.

"Oh," he looked up, his furry face pursed. "I would rather stick to the long road and go through the city. But I do not want to get you all in trouble for being dark creatures in a light area. And I know you want to get this mission done quickly," he pointed to me, "So I will tolerate the flying shortcut."

"Great," I pumped my fist. To be fair, I understood Timmy's desire to stay on the ground—heights weren't really my thing. "Let me go to the dining hall and my dormitory, and then I'll meet you outside."

"Might I accompany you to the dining hall, my lady?" He licked his lips.

"Um, sure," I stepped back at his flirtatious expression.

"I think we should all have lunch," Felicia chuckled and shook her head.

We strolled off together, Felicia pulling Bananas's leash every so often when he meandered too far.

A few days of hiking later, the snow-tipped mountain towered ahead.

Time to fly. I mounted my broom and kicked off from the ground.

Felicia picked Timmy up by the scruff of his neck, threw him onto Bananas, and climbed on after him. "Yah!"

Bananas took off into the air, zig-zagging in the sharp wind.

"So, what's your experience with the Fairy Godmother's system been?" Felicia turned to me, her ponytail blowing behind her.

"My personal experience, or my kind's?" I pulled my hat lower.

"Both," she shrugged.

"Personally," my eyes drifted up, "I don't know. Maybe if it had to do with me being different. Well, being cooped up in Crone's Nest can be boring, so I'm glad to be out of here, and I hope I can cause trouble all over the place."

"So, you're welcome you came along?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, thanks," I waved my hand. "And as for my kind's experience, while we can't wreak havoc the way we used to, at least princes aren't wiping the floor with us anymore. We're mortal enemies, you know." All the princess books ended with one of us killing the other.

"Oh," Felicia drew back. "Is that another reason you and the other witches laughed at me in the auditorium?"

"Yep," I shook my head.

"I guess we ought to understand each other before we try to join forces," green deepened in her face. "Thanks for telling me you guys have an enemy you don't."

"Hey, I may be bad at potions, but I'm a straight-A student in princeology," I laid a hand on my cloak fastening. "What does your kind have to deal with?"

"Just the usual torch-wielding mob," she waved her hand.

Mobs? We witches could handle those easily. They'd be frogs hopping into a pond before they could stab anyone with their pitchforks!

"And Timmy, Bananas, and I have also run into the Fairy Godmother's supporters a few times while looking for your crew," her eyes trailed down.

Those beliefs were too strong to die with their founder. "What are they doing?" I cocked my head.

"Trying to keep her order going," she raised her shoulders, "And I think I heard one of them looking for magical help to take her place."

Magical help? This might be an opportunity. "Do you know who that supporter is?"

She paused. "I think it's Goldilocks."

Goldilocks? The girl who supposedly wanted everything just right? Of course she'd love a tyrannical control freak like the Fairy Godmother.

"Look! We are here!" Timmy pointed down.

The Fairy Godmother's factory loomed below us. While it may have been pristine in its day, vines and moss cloaked half the building and threatened to swallow the steely facade in green strands and leaves.

We lowered to the grass on the side of the entrance and dismounted our rides.

"Breaking into this place might be easier than I thought," I drew my wand and blasted a fiery, surging beam of light at the wall in front of me. With a _bang,_ the spell smashed a great spider-shaped hole into the wall.

There was a dense pause, but nothing came out, no alarms went off.

"Yep," I climbed through the hole. "That was easy."

In contrast to the factory's run-down exterior, the interior of the factory was extremely clean and organized. The chairs were pushed perfectly into the long tables and enormous wooden machines, and there wasn't a speck of dust in sight. The walls were stiff, knobby gray stone, and the only lights were a few bright bulbs high in the ceiling.

"Wow," Timmy's teal eyes almost expanded to cute width as they stared over a mosaic of a globe on the stone floor. "The Fairy Godmother took care of this place. Everything is just right."

"You don't think Goldilocks did the 'just right' part?" Felicia raised an eyebrow with a joking smile.

"It's not too comfortable, though," I crossed my arms tight. "Needs a little more warmth." Maybe more lights, some red-toned wallpaper?

"Looks suspicious, doesn't it?" her eyes scanned our surroundings.

"Oh, come on!" Timmy waved his paw. "What could possibly—"

 _Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!_ Cages went down upon Felicia, Timmy, Bananas, and me.

"—happen," he retracted.

"Told you," Felicia jabbed at him, then tried to heave up her cage. "What's going on?"

"Looks like someone's taken over this place," I drew my wand and shot blasting light at the bars.

But the light fizzled out as soon as it made contact. The cages were spell-proof? These had to come from the Fairy Godmother. But who'd kept them from getting rusty?

"Who sent out the intruder alert?" I called around. "Come out!"

The doors burst open, revealing a small, plump woman around thirty with blonde ringlets, dressed in a frilly, pastoral yellow gown.

"Oh, great," Felicia flopped against the bars.

"Who's this?" My eyes jumped between them.

"That's Goldilocks," she gritted her peg teeth. "One of the biggest supporters of the three-hundred-year-old tradition."

"Is she the one looking for magical help?" My finger went to my chin.

"Yes…" Her voice trailed off.

"What do we have here?" Goldilocks's pale teal eyes sliced over us. "The ogress, the fat little cat, and the mutant donkey. First you expanded that ogre colony, then helped set up another, and now you've broken into my factory?" Her eyes narrowed in on me. "Who are you? New to this group of troublemakers?"

I had learned from the tales of those who defeated witches that the best way to escape a captor was to try to ease their guard. "Goldilocks, I've got nothing to do with them," I gestured to Felicia and the others. "They just dragged me along because they thought a witch could help their plans. But," I leaned forward, "I heard you need some magical help to keep the great order of the Fairy Godmother going after her unfortunate demise. How about we make a deal?" I stuck out my arm. "You need help, and I've gotten a bit friendly with these troublemakers, so why don't I lend you a wand in return for their freedom?"

Goldilocks paused. "What? Let them go?"

"These spell-proof cages are proof that you're not one to mess with," I tried to shoot red sparks at the bars, but they fizzled out as soon as they hit the iron. "Your magnificent security certainly gives this group limitations." I turned to Felicia. "We won't be breaking into this factory again, will we?"

"What are you doing?" She hissed between her teeth.

"Just go along with it!" I whispered. "This might help both of us!"

"Fine," she grumbled. "Absolutely!" She raised her voice as she turned to Goldilocks. "We should have known this factory was off-limits!"

"If you've learned your lesson," Goldilocks gathered herself, "Perhaps I will consider this bargain."

"Great!" I spread my arms. "So, Goldilocks," I pointed my wand at her, "What exactly do you want from my service? I'm not sure about committing just yet."

"You must help me fulfill my greatest desire," Goldilocks laid a pink-painted hand on her bodice. "I want to become a beautiful princess and live happily-ever-after."

Oh boy. But I'd do anything to get this mission over with.

"But I can only achieve that with a certain potion—the Happily-Ever-After Potion," her wistful smile fell. "Unfortunately, there's no bottle of that in the factory's storage, thanks to the father of that ogress," she shot Felicia a look. "So, as you're a witch," she scanned me from the tip of my hat to my upturned toes, "I need you to brew the potion for me."

Me? Brew the Happily-Ever-After Potion? How in all of Far Far Away could I do that? Still, I didn't have much of a choice. "The name's Ophelia," I informed with my hands on my hips.

Goldilocks's pale teal eyes suddenly stared forward for a second, as if the name rang a bell in her. "Ophelia, I'll take your bargain. Including letting those troublemakers out."

"You promise?" I raised my eyes. "No catches?"

"I promise. I'll lift up your cage and bring you to the storage room, but don't enjoy yourself too much," she waggled a warning finger. "This is work, not a free-for-all."

"I'll control myself," I raised my right hand. I was just going to do what I needed to do. Or maybe…why couldn't I push myself and make _two_ potions? This factory could have all the supplies and instructions I needed to actually summon a ghost for once. And who knows what sort of ghosts I could summon if I found a good potential totem here. Maybe I could even get the ghost of the Fairy Godmother!

Goldilocks pulled a lever on the wall, and my cage lifted.

Felicia tried to pull her cage's bars apart, but she was stuck.

"Ogre instincts really get to you, don't they?" Timmy curled up lazily in his cage.

"I'll escort you to the potions office and make sure you're secure there," Goldilocks took my shoulder and lightly pushed me forward.

I could handle that in exchange for gaining access to the valuables of the Fairy Godmother. But would Goldilocks let me concoct the ritual potion? I'd have to find a way to get her out of the room.

We ascended a tall, steep, rickety flight of stairs. Its thin boards seemed more fit for house-elves than for humans. After we walked in a square arc on a wooden platform, we passed through an arch into a hallway full of portraits.

"The Fairy Godmother sure liked to look at herself, didn't she?" I noticed that many of the portraits were of her. "Ooh," my eyes stopped at a different painting, one of a witch with scrawling script ending near the frame. "She's got a portrait of Hecate? Autographed with a little heart by Hecate herself? _Thank you for all of the wicked tasks you've given me; Hecate,"_ I read the script aloud. "Wow!" But why would a magic-user so devoted to happiness would have an autographed picture of a dark witch and give her wicked tasks to do?

We approached a red velvet curtain ahead. "Here we are," Goldilocks pushed me past the curtain into a vast, dimly-lit room ringed with tall shelves full of brightly colored books and bottles. A long desk stood in the middle. "When you're done with the potion, ring this bell." She pointed to a small bell hanging above the desk. "I'll be watching your work, Ophelia," she sat down in front of the desk in a chair that seemed just right, despite the long, clumsily glued cracks that crisscrossed about its legs.

I nodded sharply. "Here we go," I breathed, and joined her at the desk to begin working. The Fairy Godmother's desk had a large cauldron in the middle, flanked by a stack of books and a small portrait of a haughty-looking blonde man with _Prince_ _Charming_ written above his head in curly script.

Charming? More like Narcissist. If he ever ran the factory for long, he'd probably have filled it up with his portraits, too.

Tucked into the corner of the portrait was a smaller picture of the Fairy Godmother wearing an innocent expression. Whoever had painted this had made a mistake; her eyes were brown instead of the accurate blue eyes shown in her old advertisements.

Around her picture were the words _Don't stop Believing! Mommy's Little Angel._ Hecate, the words were so saccharine, they almost seemed sarcastic.

I turned back to the cauldron and inhaled. Now, where was I? "First step to potion-making: get the cauldron ready." With my wand, I filled the cauldron with water and struck up a fire under it. Was the fire too strong? Too weak? Different potions required different boiling levels. Oh, why was I trying to do this on my own from the start? I had to get a spell book, a nice big one. I mounted my broomstick and flew a slow ring around the room, scanning the shelves of jars and books. "Hmm, _Perfectly Powerful Potions."_ I stopped at a large black tome and heaved it out."It's by the Fairy Godmother herself! This should come in handy." If the Fairy Godmother worked with Hecate, this book could have a clear guide to the ritual potion. I flew down with the book, laying it upon the desk. I opened the book, soon discovering the table of contents. "Aww, there's no Wart-Growing Potion in here," I hung my head.

"Ahem," Goldilocks cleared her throat sharply with her nose in the air. "Can you _please_ find a potion that you like? Perhaps one we both like?" she batted her ice blue eyes.

"I hope I can find one—yeah, I think I have. The Eternal Sleep Potion; it's one of the wickedest potions ever, and its only antidote is the most powerful one of all; true love's first kiss. How about that, Goldilocks? If you took that, you wouldn't need to be beautiful—you could get your happy ending practically for free!" And I could search through the factory, steal Goldilocks's keys, and break everyone out.

"No," Goldilocks crossed her arms. Did she see my ulterior motives? "True love only comes from how beautiful you look. This idea of yours will never work! And can't you witches fangirl over _normal_ things?" Goldilocks put her forehead in her hands. "Like the latest gowns or hot knights or things like that?"

"And there's the Happily-Ever-After Potion!" I quickly flipped to the noted page number. The cauldron needed to be at a medium boil, where it was now. I studied the list of ingredients. "I need a teaspoon of faith, a cup of trust, a pinch of pixie dust, and…a hair of the Prince?" I glanced over at Goldilocks. This question could require some sleuthing. Time to try to annoy my overseer out of the storage room. "Hey, Goldilocks," I looked past my arm at her, "Why does this potion need prince hair?" And why was prince capitalized? Did someone make a typo?

"Why are you asking me?" Goldilocks shifted in her seat. "Don't you know what it's for?"

"This Happily-Ever-After Potion is for nice, cheery magic, isn't it?"

"Yes," Goldilocks's mouth tensed with slight irritation.

"I'm not an expert at those 'puppies and rainbows' potions, but this prince hair seems out of place compared with the previous ingredients," I scanned the list again. "Do you know what this reminds me of?"

"What?" She threw herself forward. "Get on with it!"

"A disguising potion," I held up a finger. "Do you know about disguising potions?"

"They…disguise people?" She rolled her eyes.

"That's true. Specifically," I donned the tone of a snobbish professor, "Disguising potions hold the hairs of people that others intend to masquerade as. These potions are very often temporary in nature." I looked back down at the potions book. "Oh, look, Goldilocks! This is very interesting. According to the book, the Happily-Ever-After Potion is only permanent if the drinker is kissed by their true love before midnight. Sappy, isn't it?"

"I think it sounds wonderful," Goldilocks clutched her hands to her cheek. Then, she sat up. "The potion's _temporary?!"_

"Yeah," I kept up my annoying image. "It's just like a disguising potion, isn't it?"

"How-how am I supposed to find true love in _one day?"_ She grasped her face.

"Doesn't that happen all the time?" All those yucky instant-love fairytales zipped through my head. "And you _do_ have family and friends, don't you?" I raised my eyes. "True love isn't just romantic, though no one can deny the romantic form packs one heck of a punch. Or you could just drink the potion every day."

 _Ring ring!_ The bell on the desk shook violently.

"Does your factory have a poltergeist?" I started back. Maybe I could steal it and pass it off as my own.

"No," Goldilocks quickly rose from her chair. "Someone's rung the alarm." She hurried to the door. "Fred!" she called out. "What's the trouble now?"

A dove flew in. "Goldilocks!" he flapped his wings frantically. "You know that…dragon-donkey thing you trapped?"

"Dronkey," I corrected.

"That _dronkey,"_ Fred quickly absorbed the information, "Breathed fire onto the snout of your precious Baby Bear, Goldilocks."

"Oh, Baby Bear!" Goldilocks shrieked. "This day is getting worse and worse! Don't worry, Baby Bear! I'm coming! Bring me to him, Fred!" As Fred flew out, she stopped in the archway and gave me a stern look. "I advise you get this done without any funny business. Remember, your friends are still in cages." She tugged the curtain closed behind her.

"Thank you, Bananas," I cheered a little. I flew around again, this time looking carefully at the jar labels. I could just summon the ingredients down, but that wasn't exactly a reliable spell. "Good thing the Fairy Godmother alphabetized." Order mattered with potions, so the ingredients couldn't be thrown in at random. I'd gather the jars alphabetically, but measure them in as instructed. I began flying across the jars.

There were jars of potion ingredients, but also fully-brewed potions. Hmm, maybe a bottle of Happily-Ever-After Potion was here, and the non-magical-minded Goldilocks didn't see it.

"Elder branches, they make fabulous wands for warlocks…ooh, I just _love_ that potion," I gazed longingly at a slime-green bottle with a skull stopper that was shoved into the shadows of the shelves. "If only Goldilocks' minions wouldn't suspect me if they found their mistress in an irreversible coma." If only Goldilocks wasn't served by bears—getting _them_ into mad grief would not be good. "…Evil weed—superb snaring material…no Happily-Ever-After Potion. Great. I knew this wouldn't be easy. I'll have to make it from _scratch._ Here's faith!" I picked up the jar, which was filled with light emanating from and swirling around an acacia twig. I flew back down and placed the jar on the table—I didn't want to risk dropping any ingredients. I zipped back up. Now for the P's. "I comes before…yep, there's the pixie dust. Made by Tinker Bell." I read the label of the jar filled with golden sparkles. I brought the jar to the table. "Now, for the prince hair," I flew up and picked up a small jar in which the contents were barely discernible in the shadows of the shelves' interiors. Drawing it out, I could see a small lock of hair. There was something off about its color. What was it? I turned the jar about at various angles to better examine the hair, but I then brought the jar to the desk and put it down. I'd examine its contents more carefully later when I was mixing the ingredients. "Finally, trust." I zipped up, going past the s's to the t's. I discovered trust to be silver strands that interwove themselves inside their jar. I brought the final jar down to its fellows on the table and cracked my knuckles. "Time to get cooking." I scanned the measuring items and reviewed the instructions. "I'll need a teaspoon of faith first." I opened the jar of faith, took the teaspoon, and scooped the teaspoon into the light around the acacia twig. Drawing out the teaspoon, I found it to be surrounded by blue flames, yet not burning. I carefully shook the fire into the cauldron. The water frothed, turned blue, and after a flash of blue light, emitted smoke that took the form of a burning bush. I cranked shut the jar of faith in case any fire came out. I wrenched open the jar of trust. I took the one cup measure next and scooped out strands that would fill the cup without overflowing—they held very tight to each other, and I had to snap some apart. The potion flashed silver, and the smoke that came from the cauldron next took the form of two hands clasped together. I quickly shut the jar of trust to ensure the other strands didn't join their fellows in the cauldron. The lid of the pixie dust jar came off smoothly. I reached my fingers in, took out a pinch of the dust, and sprinkled it into the cauldron. My fingertips felt light for a few seconds.

The potion glowed and flashed gold, and the steam that came from it next took the form of fairy wings.

I screwed open the final jar, taking out the hair. I looked at the portrait on the table. Then, I looked at the hair again. This hair didn't look blonde, like the hair of Charming, or red, like the hair of Felicia's grandfather, the Frog King. Maybe it was just the light—or lack of it. I did have trouble examining the hair in the dim light beyond the desk. But it wouldn't hurt to check. I compared the strand to the portrait on the desk. In the light of the overhead lamp, the hair I held was clearly a solid brown. Something was going on here. I needed to learn more about this hair. I put it back in its jar and into my pocket. But now, I needed a substitute hair. Maybe a different hair wouldn't change the potion much. Or maybe…I cackled a little. If there was a difference, specifically a "turn into a witch" difference, Goldilocks wouldn't be pleased. Hopefully she'd have let us out before I gave her the potion. I plucked out one of my own hairs and threw it in the cauldron. There was a flash of green light from the cauldron, and then matching steam poured out and took the shape of a witch's hat. Oh, Goldilocks would be angry, all right. But I also hoped she would look on the bright side. At least I wasn't the ugliest witch in the kingdom. I stirred the potion with my wand, took an empty vial from the desk, scooped up Happily-Ever-After Potion, and corked the vial.

Now to do what I _really_ came here for. "Sorry, Felicia, Timmy, Bananas," I scanned the room, "But this might take a little time." No, if I wanted to help them, I couldn't put my potion first. Finding those witch settlements mattered more. I returned to the shelves and scanned the spines of the books.

 _The Best Towers for Damsels in Distress_ jumped out at me. It might have things about witch settlements. After all, what better way to keep a spineless snob in a tower than to have that tower right next to a bunch of witches?

I flipped through the book. "Security spells to ensure that only handsome princes enter? No help, and I could just cast a cloaking charm to break those. Sound-proofed towers for eternal sleepers? Is that even necessary? Sounds like a waste of magic to me. This book is useless." I shut it, threw it over my shoulder, and checked the shelf again. _"How to Find a Knight in Shining Armor…_ is that even possible? _Cinderella…Sleeping Beauty…Rapunzel…_ Dang it!" I hissed. "No records of witch settlements? I knew this wouldn't be easy." I flew back down to the desk. Maybe that had records. I pulled drawers open. "Nothing—wait, what's that?"

Light sparkled off of something green and gold in the largest drawer. I slowly reached into the drawer and pulled out a heart-shaped emerald pendant on a golden chain. All the light in the room penetrated its many facets, displaying its depth. "It's beautiful," I stroked the jewel. The size of the emerald, how the light shone and sparkled about it—this was no ordinary necklace. "Where did this amulet come from?" I peeked back into the drawer to find a small note in rough script.

The note was a deep, cracked yellow, and its letters were faded.

"This thing has to be hundreds of years old," my eyes narrowed.

 _Dear Fairy Godmother,_

 _Here's a pretty emerald necklace that I took from the Prince you assigned me to take down; consider it a bonus. I didn't want to let the necklace's finery be wasted by vulgar thieves, or let any brainy person find it and discover our crime. I'm sure you'll look marvelous in it._

 _Sincerely, the Huntsman._

That weird capitalization again. What sort of assassination had this been? Well, I had nothing to do with it—except to steal this amulet. Being possessed by the Fairy Godmother made it an object with a lost owner; just what I needed for my ghost-summoning charm. If I harnessed the spirit of the Fairy Godmother, Baba Yaga would give me high marks. But part of me crossed their fingers that I wouldn't summon her—summoning the Fairy Godmother would be dangerous. I pocketed the amulet, stuck the letter back in the drawer, and shut the drawer.

Now it was time to brew the ritual potion. I took a deep breath and returned to the _Perfectly Powerful Potions_ book. Was the potion in there? I flipped back to the table of contents. "Nothing on ghosts—that's it! The Spirit Servant Ritual Potion!" I turned to a page near the end of the book. There was the long list of instructions, but there were no ingredients that had to be fresh, nothing against bottling the potion to use later. "First, have a clean cauldron with water at a low boil," I darted over to the cauldron and emptied it with a wave of my wand. How much water needed to be in the cauldron? I checked the first instructions again. "The cauldron should be a quarter full." Shallow potion then. I returned to the cauldron and peered in. No measurement marks; I'd have to eyeball it. "One quarter, one quarter…" I muttered as I slowly poured water into the cauldron. What had the next step been again? My eyes jumped back to the book. "Right, the water should be at a low boil," I lowered the flames to a soft crackle. Now, getting all those ingredients should be fun. I returned to the book and after a brief check that I'd followed the first instructions, my eyes went down to the ingredients list. Everything was in alphabetical order with numbers beside them. "Numbers mark the order in which ingredients should be used," I caught a scribbled aside. The Fairy Godmother must've had trouble with this potion, too. With that bit of reassurance, I returned to the list. "A piece of ash tree bark, three asphodel flowers, a bone, a small jar of deadly nightshade, a small bottle of djinn fire, six inches of geese entrails, a tablespoon of lamb's blood, a monkey's paw, three death cap mushrooms, a cup of pomegranate seeds, and a teaspoon of widows' tears." Was that it? "Phew," I exhaled. But reading out those ingredients was the easy part. Now, I had to zip back up to those potion shelves and get all those ingredients.

—


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Felicia

Ophelia knew she had to get us out of here as soon as possible. Well, she _ought_ to know that. Why did her plan to get us out of here involve bargaining with Goldilocks? Should I have let her become my team's witch companion? "What the _heck_ is taking her so long?!" I thrust myself against the bars of my cage. "Should it really take half an hour to brew one measly little potion?" I _banged_ on the bars. Could I bend them with my ogre strength? My eyes went down to Timmy, who kicked his legs in his catnap.

His claws shot out, and they ignited an idea in me.

 _"Timmy!"_

 _"Che?"_ He jerked up to all fours, fur on end. "Is Ophelia back yet?" He straightened his hat.

"No," I gripped my hands. "I can't believe she's taking her time. If she's doing her witch stuff while we're being held prisoner…" I shook my fist.

 _"Sí_ , that is imaginable," he licked his fur smooth.

"We've gotta find our own way out of here," my fingers reached through the bars, and clamped around a padlock around the cage's door. Can you pick that lock?" I pointed to the identical padlock on Timmy's cage.

"I will try," he climbed up to it and stuck a paw through. He inserted a claw into the keyhole and turned.

With a _click_ and a _clang,_ the padlock snapped open and struck the ground.

 _"Sí!"_ He threw open the cage door. "You are next, Felicia," he stuck his claw into my lock.

"Thanks," I gave him a smile. Then, my eyes darted up and around me. Were any dove guards watching? What about Goldilocks?

The doves flapped high in the rafters, but didn't seem to watch us closely.

Goldilocks stood in a corner of the factory's potion lobby, applying a cold, wet cloth to the snout of an enormous grizzly.

"Oh, it's all right now, Baby Bear," Goldilocks patted the bear's head. "Soon those undesirables will be out of our factory, and we will live happily-ever-after."

The doves were distracted. Goldilocks was distracted. "Go for it, Timmy!" I hissed him on.

 _Click!_ The lock snapped open.

 _"Presto!"_ He swept out his foreleg as the lock hit the floor. "The door, my lady," he opened it with a flourish.

"I'm glad my idea worked," I stepped out and stretched my arms. As I raised my head, my eyes caught a dove flying over to Goldilocks.

"Goldilocks," the dove landed on her shoulder, "Are you sure letting the prisoners go is a good idea?"

"They won't bring anything to the factory, Fred," Goldilocks raised her hand. "Letting them out is the best we can do."

"It's not about them helping us," Fred's pink eyes trailed away. "The undesirables might be a real threat to all we hold dear."

"I know that," she raised a clenched jaw. "But bargaining with that witch to live happily-ever-after is more important than those troublesome teenagers."

"Teenagers?" Timmy sniffed under his breath as he crept over to Goldilocks's bustle. "I can drink hard milk!"

 _"Ssh!"_ I put a finger to my lips as I tried to tiptoe after him.

 _"Mi dispiace,"_ he tensed with sheepish eyes.

"But isn't the witch you got to brew the Happily-Ever-After Potion named Ophelia?" Fred fluttered up from Goldilocks's shoulder.

"What's special about that name?" Her voice sharpened.

Wait a second. Did we dark creatures not know something they did? What was going on here?

"Goldilocks," Fred landed atop her head, "Are you really trying to avoid the possibility that you might have just let the biggest threat to our way of life into a place that can set her on the road to ruining _everything?!"_

Ophelia? That witch apprentice forced to volunteer on our mission was actually the key to making it work? Uniting the witches and ogres was more important than I even imagined.

 _"Che cosa?"_ Timmy stepped forward, épée raised. "What is this you are talking about?"

Goldilocks spun around. "How did you escape?"

"The classic lock-picking way," he held up a claw.

Goldilocks slapped herself across the face. "Get them in more secure cages," she turned to Fred.

"Got it," he flew over and pressed a large red button on a wall.

Two brand new cages without doors _slammed_ down on us.

"Well, we sure made progress," I thumped my head against the bars.

"Hey, it was fun while it lasted," Timmy shrugged and lay down in his cage.

When Ophelia finally finished that potion, I had a lot to tell her. What was she _doing_ up there?

—


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Ophelia

"Dang it!"

Smoke exploded from the potion with the rank odor of rotting flesh.

I drained the cauldron and refilled it with water with a wave of my wand. Time to start this whole thing over again. At least it was mostly memorized now that I had tried to do it for, well, _at least a hundred times?_ Why couldn't this darn potion just say "throw all these ingredients together?" Why did it have to have all these special stirring methods and particular cauldron temperatures? All my attempts were literally going down the drain! "…Heat cauldron five degrees, add the asphodel, stir it up to get it all wilted, cool cauldron back to room temperature, let it sit…"

The water slowly stilled and smoothed.

"With the water at its original temperature and movement, add the bone," I _plopped_ it into the potion. "Pour in the last jar of deadly nightshade—this potion had better be the one—" I tipped in the jar's contents, "Crank up the heat to boiling, then put in the djinn fire." I tapped the tips of the fire under the cauldron with my wand, and the flames roared up the second I yanked my wand away. "Once the fire is in," I puffed out a small flame at the tip of my wand, "Cool the cauldron down to the temperature it was when the asphodel was added to the potion." But I couldn't get too ahead of myself—that had been a problem the last few times. I unscrewed the jar of djinn fire and scraped it into the boiling cauldron. Then, tapping the cauldron, I returned it to just five degrees over room temperature, and the bubbles receded. I dropped in the geese entrails. Now what? I peered back to the ingredients list. "Heat cauldron five more degrees for the next two ingredients," I tapped the surface of the potion, then poured in the lamb's blood. "Stir the blood, then add the paw," I dropped the monkey's paw into the potion. "Then, cool the potion back down to room temperature for the final ingredients!" Mushrooms! Pomegranate seeds! Add the tears, stir it up, and…

 _Boom!_ A cloud of smoke rose, ghostly blue, and with the scent of future rain.

Cool mist settled onto my face.

"Sweet!" I pumped my fist. Finished! Was there any extra credit on this test?

My eyes scanned down the instructions. "Check, check, check…" Then, I stopped at a footnote. "To enhance the potion, add a bit of the body of the spirit you wish to summon."

An idea lit in me. The "hair of the Prince" was in my pocket. The amulet I wore belonged to someone also called "the Prince." If I put the hair in the potion, I might be able to figure it all out. I drew the vial of hair from my pocket, screwed it open, and dropped the hair into the potion.

The liquid turned periwinkle, and warm, glowing steam in the shape of a skull with drooping eye sockets rose from the cauldron. Wasn't that skull design on the bottle of Eternal Sleep Potion up there? It was probably just a coincidence.

As soon as the smoke dispersed, I seized another empty vial, scooped up some of the potion, shut it tight, and rang the bell.

"You're done?" Goldilocks pushed the curtain away. Stray hairs poked out of her ringlets, which drooped at askew angles. A long cut scratched across her left cheek.

Maybe if I took care of that, I could avoid a risk of her backstabbing me. "Ooh, that has to hurt," I winced. I flew up to the shelves. "I'll take care of that. The Fairy Godmother has to have—yes, she does! Leech ointment!"

 _"Leech_ ointment?" She took a step back.

"It'll heal that cut instantly," I took the ointment down from the shelf. "And you did say true love only comes from how beautiful you look."

"All right, then," she inhaled. "Put it on my face."

"This is gonna sting a little," I unscrewed the jar from the near-flat container. I slid my finger across the ointment and smeared my fingertip of ointment across her cheek.

"Ouch!" Her hands flew up to her hissing cut.

"That means it's working. See?" I turned up my palms as she ran a finger across smooth skin. "Speedy healing!" I screwed the cap back on the ointment, zipped the ointment back to the shelf, and flew down to the desk.

"I-I have to say thank you," she grumbled. "Is the Happily-Ever-After Potion ready?"

"Yes," I handed her the vial of green potion. "Here you go."

Goldilocks swiped up the flask and took a big swig. Hecate, she was gonna try to kill me tomorrow when she found the potion did the opposite of what she expected. "I suppose it's time I pay my end of the bargain," she wiped her mouth.

"Thanks," the corners of my mouth pushed up. "Not many folks who drive hard bargains here keep up their ends."

"I'm not a bad guy," she raised her chin, turned around, and headed back through the curtain.

I almost felt sorry for her as I slipped past the curtain after her and followed her back down to the entrance hall.

She pressed a red button on a wall panel, and the cages rose.

Bananas flew out of his cage and zipped in rectangles around the room.

"Is it time to go already?" Timmy yawned and stretched to his back paws. "I was just starting my catnap."

Felicia burst out of her cage and seized me in an ogre hug. "Thank you."

"No…problem…" I wheezed.

"Now," her hands moved up to my shoulders, "What took you so long? We waited over half an hour!"

"Sorry," I pulled away. "I brewed the Happily-Ever-After Potion, saw I could make my ghost potion, I brewed it, too, and that took a while."

"You took all that time to brew your own potion?" Her round face flared green.

"Why am I not surprised?" Timmy crossed his forelegs.

"I looked for witch records, too!" I held out my arms. "No dice, though," I shook my head and sighed between my teeth.

"I might've guessed," she grumbled almost under her breath. "Dad told me witches fly around so much, it's hard to tell exactly where they live."

"Then, let's get out of here," I turned around at once and began my exit at a fast walk.

"I can't believe you actually made the Happily-Ever-After potion for Goldilocks," she thumped after me.

"Yeah," I giggled nervously. "I think we should talk about that when we're out of this place."

"Okay," her eyes started to narrow. "Will this be best for all of us?"

"I-I don't know. Maybe it's just for my own gain." I leaned close to her to whisper. "I found some things, and I think something's fishy."

"Fishy?" Timmy piped up as he bounded at our heels. "Good, I'm hungry."

"This isn't about food, Timmy," Felicia hushed him.

When we walked through the gates, I mounted my broomstick and flew off in a jiffy. None of Goldilocks's minions should overhear what I had done.

Felicia and Timmy soon were beside me on Bananas.

"Did you steal from the factory?" Timmy's whiskers blew back in the wind. "You did say you found some things."

"Two things. I stole a necklace that the Fairy Godmother got from the Huntsman, who took it from one of his hits," I held up one finger. "The spell I need to do involves summoning a spirit from the beyond to use as a helper, and the only way I can get a spirit is by using an object with a lost owner. As the necklace has at least two dead bearers, it works."

"You mean that totem spell you and Baba Yaga talked about, right?" Felicia blurted in.

"Right," I gave a sharp nod. "I also stole a jar of hair."

"A jar of _hair?"_ She blinked. _"_ What kind of hair?"

"Prince hair. _A_ prince hair, to be exact. The potion asked for it. But there was something weird about its color. The hair wasn't blonde like Prince Charming's."

"Maybe it was my granddad's," she held out a hand. "I got his red hair."

"Nah, it wasn't red," I waved her off. "It was…brown."

"Brown? That doesn't ring any bells," she thought aloud. "I can see why you took it, then." She stopped. "But if you didn't use the hair, is the potion going to work?"

"Not as expected. Because I couldn't use the prince hair, I substituted it with…" A naughty grin spread across my face. _"…my_ hair."

 _"Your_ hair?" She clenched her peg teeth together. "My dad and his donkey took that potion once, Ophelia, and they became a handsome knight and a white horse. The hair's got to be the key ingredient. A witch hair won't make things pretty!"

"I know," I shook my head, but smiled. "I do regret it, but I also wish I could see what a witch hair'll do to Goldilocks."

"What do you think she'll look like?" She had the disgusted but eager expression of a kid at a sideshow.

"I hope she gets my hair," I tossed back my long black bush in the sunset breeze. "After all, that _is_ what I put in her potion."

"Ooh, if she gets your hair, she won't like it," she half-smiled, half-winced. "She's so fond of her blonde ringlets."

"I caught a grin there," I pointed to her. "You're looking forward to a little mischief?"

"What can I say?" she shrugged. "I'm an ogre. Ogres like trouble."

"Creatures of the dark," I grinned. "We're no goody two-shoes." That reminded me of something. "I saw something else that was a little off in the factory."

"Of course there'd be something off," she raised a hand. "There's no darkness in the factory."

"Actually, the factory does have darkness," I gazed upwards as my gears turned. "That's what I noticed. When I entered a hall with Goldilocks, I saw a portrait of Hecate on the wall—a portrait autographed with a heart."

"The Fairy Godmother has a picture of a wicked witch that's autographed with a heart?" Felicia nearly let go of Bananas. "That's out of character, isn't it?"

"Exactly. Why would the Fairy Godmother, a creator of 'happiness,' admire a creator of misfortune? And I saw evil potions and ingredients in the Fairy Godmother's study. It doesn't really make sense."

"If she were actually the Wicked Fairy," Felicia rubbed her chin, "It would make a lot more sense. I mean, she nearly made my mother live _unhappily-_ ever-after. On ruining happy endings," her blue eyes went to me, "Timmy and I got out of our cages for a bit while you were working on those potions."

"I saw you got caught, though," I shook my head and chuckled.

"Timmy blew it," she gave him a look. "Anyway, Goldilocks was talking to one of her doves, and it turns out you're really important to our whole mission to restore darkness to all of Far Far Away!"

 _What?_ I flew backwards. Really? "I don't believe this," I zipped back to Felicia. "How could I be so important to your mission?"

"We need you to bring the witches together and help me reunite them with the ogres," she held out a hand.

"But me?" I pointed to myself. "Why me? Couldn't another witch do the job?"

"That's what you said when Baba Yaga chose you to go on this journey with us," she giggled. "I think this is just the way it is. Still," her smile dropped, "Goldilocks's dove did say it was specifically you who could help us."

Great. First I had to complete a super-hard potion, now I found out I was part of some sort of prophecy? What would happen next? Would my ghost-summoning spell go horribly wrong?

I took a breath and looked down to sunset-gilded tops of deciduous trees. Their deep green leaves nearly touched my toes. I was far enough to the ground. "We're in the Dark Forest," I announced. Below us, there was a small clearing beside a river. "Let's land here." I looked up again and flew down to a more comfortable height.

Bananas followed me down.

Felicia, Timmy, and I dismounted our respective rides.

"Tenting time," Felicia took the bedrolls from Bananas' saddlebags.

I took out my traveling cauldron from the saddlebag I had reserved for my goods, and set it down on the red-orange, sandy earth. "I'll set up dinner. Timmy," I turned to the cat, "I'm making soup. Could you forage for some ingredients, please?"

"I will," Timmy bounded off. "You ladies will not be kept waiting!"

I filled the cauldron with water I conjured from my wand.

"So, what do you think will happen when you expand our group from four to five?" Felicia unfolded the bedrolls.

"There's going to be some magic, for sure," I stirred the water with my wand and tapped the ground to ignite a fire under the cauldron.

"What sort of magic?" She shoved down a pole.

"Oh, a big puff of smoke, maybe some sparks," I arced out my arm. Something flashy, probably creepy, too. I _was_ going to be summoning the undead.

"Who do you think we're going to meet?" She staked down another pole with a _grunt._ "The Fairy Godmother?"

"There are at least three souls I could summon," I raised my hand. "The Fairy Godmother, the Huntsman," I counted off my fingers, "—he gave her the necklace, and the prince that the Huntsman took the necklace from. But as the necklace is an amulet and royal jewelry, it's probably had loads of owners."

"Wait, did you say it's an amulet?" She tossed the tarp over the poles. "I gotta check this out."

"Go ahead," I reached into my pouch and pulled out the necklace.

Its emerald heart glittered in the setting sunlight.

"Goldilocks would definitely want this," she leaned towards it with a gleam in her eyes.

"Yeah, but she wouldn't be able to really understand it," I shook my head down. She probably thought it was just fancy jewelry.

"How do you know it's magic?" She raised a bushy ginger eyebrow.

"I can tell based on how it looks. The way the light glitters off of it, the size of it," I ran my finger down the faceted jewel. "Amulets tend to be bigger and flashier than the average pendant or brooch, especially here in Far Far Away."

"But if your necklace is already magic," Felicia sat down, "Can you still do your ritual with it? Will the spells…run together? Or crash and make a magical mess?"

"Witches use enchanted objects as totems all the time," I waved my hand. "There's nothing to worry about." Probably. Well, no matter what happened, I would have one snazzy totem with a few extra perks.

"But you don't know what powers this amulet has, do you?" She pointed to the emerald. "And you're still an apprentice."

"Lots of witches get totems when they're my age," I clapped a hand to my cloak clasp. "And I don't think an amulet shaped like a heart will be that dangerous."

"What do you think it does?" Her eyes narrowed.

"It's a green heart," I dangled it. "Maybe it has something to do with love and jealousy."

It was definitely some sort of aphrodisiac amulet. From what I knew about amulets, most didn't change the characters of their bearers. But those around the bearers could be affected, especially around charms of infatuation or hatred.

"When Timmy comes back, I'll put this on and show it to him," a plan emerged in me. "If this amulet has a love spell, that flirtatious cat is bound to be affected if the spell is powerful. If he doesn't change, we'll know the amulet's charms are minor."

"What'll you do if the spell's too strong?" Felicia tugged down her short tartan skirt.

"Find another, weaker object and give this one to Baba Yaga to take care of," the answer jumped up at once.

"I found mushrooms!" Timmy half-bounded, half-wobbled in with full paws. "They're all safe, I made sure!"

"Nice to see you, too," I clipped on the necklace. Here it went.

But Timmy just plopped down beside Felicia. "Lovely necklace," his eyes reflected the glitter of the jewel. "Is that the one you stole from the factory?"

"Yeah. Do you feel any…different about me?" I readied myself for a rush of love-cat.

"No," he shrugged. "Always knew you witches tended to be troublemakers. Nothing for or against it. Why do you ask?"

He hadn't changed. "The necklace is an amulet," I looked down at it. "I think it might have a love spell, if its heart shape is anything to go by."

"If it is a love spell," Timmy twirled his whiskers, "It must only work from humanoid to humanoid, seeing as I'm not affected. And I would know," he chuckled.

"Then we'd better avoid humanoid guys," I half-joked.

The lilac dusk darkened and cleared into an indigo sky dotted with stars. It was too early for mosquitoes, but the night birds chirped and hooted. Spring peepers and bullfrogs ribbited from the nearby lake fed by the river. They'd make good potion ingredients tomorrow morning. The river gushed lightly in a sort of low song. The warm May air and the full moon illuminated the clearing and the maples around it with silver light. There'd be little need for a campfire.

"Dinner is over, time to summon the dead," I washed and dried the cauldron, then hovered it until I placed it seven feet in front of a long, flat granite stone. I had to leave the ground clear for the spirit-summoning ritual. "Sit down and enjoy the necromancy. "Anybody afraid of ghosts here?"

"Maybe…a little," Felicia sat up straight.

"Then you'll have to face your fear," I warned her.

"What sort of ghost do you want to summon?" Timmy leaned forward.

"Maybe a pirate bound in chains," I gazed at the constellations. "Or a weeping gray lady covered in blood." Though I wouldn't get those right away. My heart beat, but not in excitement, or even fear. This ritual tended to get sloppy results from beginners. Thank goodness none of my travel mates were fellow witches—I wanted to be my only critic. I mean, I had to get one thing wrong about that potion. Would I summon "the Prince" just because I put that hair in the cauldron? Would one measly lock of hair count as a body part?

I drew my wand, walked seven feet ahead, laid down the necklace, and marked where the center of my ritual would be. I traced a circle around the necklace in the grainy ground, then traced the triangles of a pentagram around it. I unscrewed the vial and slowly poured the potion into the drawn cracks. I stepped away from the circle and sat down, crossing my legs. "Holle, Hecate," I traced my wand over the pentagram. "Unite this object with its owner. Reach into the beyond and bring their spirit to me."

At first, only a few owls hooted and crickets chirped. Did the spell not work? It was a powerful spell, and powerful spells were more prone to failure than weaker ones. Then, all went silent. A breeze began to blow, and it grew steadily stronger, until my hair threw itself in front of my eyes.

"Your ghost must enjoy making an entrance," Timmy shoved his hat down.

The circle and pentagram glowed, white light shooting upwards from the lines I had made in the sandy soil. The emerald glowed and shook. Ghostly blue smoke blasted out of it with a whistle, as if it were a teakettle.

Timmy fell backwards from his rock with a _meow_ at the noise. He scrabbled upright.

Felicia resembled a giant green goldfish.

My eyes jumped back to the glowing emerald and the smoke that erupted from it.

The column of smoke grew until it was over five feet tall.

The light from the circle and pentagram faded, though the emerald retained its glow.

The column morphed into a glowing, transparent human shape. It was a mature form, but not by much, judging by its relative slenderness. Whoever this was—was around my age.

Sadness trickled into me. Ghosts didn't usually come from natural deaths, but at so young? Maybe I ought to go easy on him.

For some reason, knowing I wouldn't get the Fairy Godmother brought relief.

The details of the figure began taking shape, starting from the bottom. Two defined legs shaping from boots, and, tapering up, a distinctly masculine torso.

An eager sensation gathered me. Handling a ghost might be more interesting than I thought.

The sharpening details revealed that the young man's final garb in life were trousers and a chemise. His soft-looking hands clutched his right shoulder. That must've been where his death-wound was. Now sadness met morbid curiosity. How exactly had he died? An infected wound?

Then, his face and took shape. His nose, cheeks, and chin were rounded, not square like Charming's. His eyes were closed, his expression slack. At least he'd lost consciousness before he kicked the bucket.

His hair flared out from his head, wavy and dark, and settled above his shoulders. Like his face, his hair was softer than Charming's, with a few untidy strands sticking out. Locks flopped onto the sides of his forehead and gently curled at the ends of his hair.

As he finished taking shape, he broke from the emerald and lowered an inch, just above the ground.

My eyes felt frozen in a bulge. I heaved myself together; I couldn't gawk at a ghost. Wait. I had called up a ghost. _I had called up a ghost?_ "Aah!" I stood up sharply with a short shriek.

"Where am I?" The spirit's spectral eyes flew open, widened, and darted around. "I'm _floating?"_ His hands came away from a dark patch of ghostly blood on his right shoulder. He looked down—and right through—his torso. He flew backwards. _"How?_ I'm-I'm transparent? What's going on here?" His eyes darted around. "Am I… _dead?"_ He stopped at my face. "Who are you?" The ghost's cheeks became a deeper shade of blue.

He wasn't looking at me like that, was he? "I'm-I'm Ophelia," I tried to look at him with a blank face. "You're in the Dark Forest. Who are you?"

"I am…" he stared down through his boots again, "Prince Bennett of Duloc. Why am I here?"

Black cat hairballs. Why did I have to summon a prince? At least I'd asked for this, right? "I summoned you from beyond the grave as a spirit…companion," my voice warmed a little. I couldn't bark at a young, scared ghost. Besides, this ghost couldn't be my servant. He outranked me!

"You mean, I _am_ dead?" Bennett put his hands to his stopped heart.

"Yep," I dropped my shoulders.

"But-but I'm not supposed to be a ghost!" His eyes darted around. "Who are all of you?"

"The ogress is Felicia, and the dronkey's Bananas," I pointed them out. "No, really, that's his name," I noticed Bennett staring at his wall-eyes. "And the cat is Timmy."

"Short for Sir Timoteo Montenegro III!" Timmy stood up, doffed his large hat, and bowed.

"What are you all doing here?" He traced us over again. "Wherever we are?"

"We're in the Dark Forest. Felicia, Timmy, Bananas and I are trying to unite the witches in order to bring excitement and stories back to Far Far Away," I gestured to them. "The ogres are already together."

"What do you mean, 'bring excitement and stories back to Far Far Away?'" His eyes narrowed. "All sorts of adventures are happening."

All sorts of adventures? The last time things were exciting was three hundred years ago. "When you were alive, that is," I crossed my arms. "Nowadays, not so much."

"How long have I been dead?" His face tensed.

"At least three centuries."

"Oh, my…" He buried his face in his hands.

"We all have missed chances," Felicia stood up and approached him. "I'm sure you lived a long, successful life."

"I'm- _I was seventeen years old!"_ He cried. "What am I going to do now?" As his eyes went down, they stopped at the jewel. "Is that—my necklace? How did you find it?"

"It was in a desk drawer in the Fairy Godmother's factory," I sat down on my knees, being careful not to let the low heels of my black ankle boots catch my cloak. "The Huntsman gave it to her after he killed you."

"Killed by the Huntsman?" He raised his eyes. "On the _Fairy Godmother's_ orders? Why—how could she do such a thing?" He paced and gripped his hair. "I knew there was something wrong with her."

"There was _a lot_ wrong with her," Felicia shook her head with a sigh. "She's the one who made everything boring after you died. That's why we want to bring back the adventures."

"You want to change things back?" He lit up. "Can I help you? I was very good at helping out people when I was alive."

"Okay," she agreed after a pause. "A ghost might come in handy." She turned to me. "I hope so," she whispered.

"Oh, he will," I gave her arm a little pat. "I'll get him to be a proper spook soon enough." I thought over Bennett's story, and anger simmered in me. Someone who could've been considered a boy had been killed by another person. I was caring again? Well, I wasn't around witches anymore, so it wasn't a problem. "I'm sorry," I returned to Bennett. "You don't know what happened to your body, do you?"

"No," he shook his head down. "I presume it was discovered, then interred in Duloc's royal mausoleum."

"Wouldn't your family have said anything?" Felicia leaned forward.

"I grew up an orphan," his eyes stayed on his feet.

"Me, too," I smiled a little. The only family I knew were the elder witches.

"Now, tell us about yourself, Prince Bennett," Timmy cleared his throat. "I have never heard of you. Do you remember anything of your earthly life? Your time in the beyond? How did you die?"

"Timmy," I put a finger to the cat's mouth, "Ghosts take those questions personally!"

"It's all right," Bennett spoke up quickly. "I'm-I'm not sure I even know all those answers by myself," he slouched down in the center of the pentagram in front of the emerald necklace and put a hand to his head.

"Maybe you could backtrack," Felicia sat back on the rock. "Start with what you know you _can_ answer. Like this question—how'd you get into commoner's clothes?"

"I can tell you about that," he straightened with brighter eyes. "The Fairy Godmother arranged me to marry a princess who was a spoiled brat and only wanted to marry me for my wealth. But I wanted to love on my own, and be loved for who I am, not what I am. I disguised myself—I wanted to hide from my status, escape from it. Live a lie until I found someone, then I would return with that person." He hung his head. "I know it wasn't the best idea."

Saying a plan to lie to get a possible fiancée "wasn't the best idea" was putting it mildly. "But you were young," I knelt down in the pentagram to look into his eyes. "And it doesn't matter now. What happened next?"

"I took this emerald necklace," he pointed down to his totem, "To give to the one I found to be my choice. It would help show that person the truth as well as my feelings. I rode off, and after the sun set, I stopped in a clearing to give my horse a break. As I walked away towards a shadowy part of the woods, I saw the figure of a hooded man lurking behind a tree. He had a bow and arrow, and shot me in the shoulder." He pointed at the dark patch. "I fell backwards in terrible pain, then into a deep sleep. At least, I thought I did," he bowed his head.

A pause hung for a moment.

"That hooded man does sound like the Huntsman," Timmy crossed his back legs and his eyes narrowed at the ghostly wound. "As you seem quite open about discussing your death, may I hypothesize about your demise?"

"Yes," Bennett followed his eyes down to his shoulder. "But don't we already know who did it with what?"

"Who, yes," he stood up, paced in front of him, and stroked his whiskers. "But _what,_ that is what we don't quite know yet. You see," he proudly put a paw to his chest. "I am well-studied in the arts of the fighter and the assassin. That is what happens when you have spent most of your life as a royal bodyguard. I know when there is something off in the report of an 'accident.' Now, about this arrow wound of yours. Where exactly it struck will show me exactly how you died." He pointed his épée at the wound, then he smiled. "My, the arrow hit in a fine spot!"

"What do you mean?" Bennett touched the wound.

"It is away from everything," he sheathed his sword and plopped back down. "Your vital organs, your bones," he waved his paw. "Right in that _dulce_ spot of flesh below your collarbone! A master assassin like the Huntsman would never have hit you there by accident, so…" he rubbed his whiskers, then lightly smacked his thigh with a conclusion. "Prince Bennett, I deduce that the arrow was poisoned."

` "That…might explain things," he put a hand to his hair. "But why was it poisoned? Why didn't the Huntsman simply—shoot me in the throat?" He winced and wrapped his hand around his neck.

"Judging by the Fairy Godmother's skill in potions and her sending the Huntsman after you," Timmy waved his paw, "She brewed the poison. The Huntsman hit you in that spot so that it would be clear that you died of the poison, not the arrow."

"So, the Fairy Godmother wanted to gloat, did she?" His eyes burned.

"She wasn't the humblest person around," Felicia raised her hands.

"Um," I lifted the necklace from the pentagram, "You don't mind if I put this on, do you, Bennett?" I lifted up the necklace from the pentagram. The necklace was brighter and warmer than I had recalled it being before the spell. "It is yours."

"I-I suppose not," he raised his shoulders slightly. "After all, you did enchant it to become a gateway for my spirit. It belongs to both of us now."

"Thank you," I clipped it back around my neck. "Well, I think that should be it for tonight. Thanks a lot for responding to my spell."

"It was my pleasure, I guess," he rubbed the back of his neck. "This…summoning business won't happen again, will it?"

"I think—I'll bring you back in the morning," I stroked the edges of the necklace.

"You're saying I'll be stuck here like this?" He clapped his hands to his head. "This can't be happening…"

He was going through the lack of existence panic again? "Look, you'll have to adjust," I crossed my arms. "Now, for the releasing charm," I raised the amulet. "Bennett, you may now return—"

Bennett dematerialized back into a shapeless column of smoke, and the smoke quickly tapered into the emerald, which glowed as the smoke came in.

"—to the beyond," the sentence seemed to come out of my mouth on my own. I guess I was better at this ghost-summoning business than I thought. "Wow," I felt like a hot air balloon, warm and floating, as I stared at the emerald's fading glow. "I did it," I exhaled myself down. "I _aced_ my necromancy practicum!"

"And revealed I'm not the only one afraid of ghosts, and not even that scared," Felicia gave me a snarky smile.

"What do you mean?" I lowered my brows over narrow eyes.

"Don't deny that shriek you made when you summoned Bennett," she snorted and crossed her arms.

"I was startled, okay?" I flushed and gritted my teeth. "Most apprentices don't summon complete ghosts on their first shots at necromancy."

"And you didn't summon an ordinary ghost," she raised her shoulders. "You summoned a hot dead guy!"

"All I did was finish my witch training!" I grasped my fists out to my sides. "Almost, that is. I just need Baba Yaga to take a look."

"At your ghostly prince's perfect hair?" She teasingly leaned her round cheek on her knuckle.

"Don't make me hex you with laryngitis curses," I tapped my wand on my palm, which made it send out warning sparks. "Come on! Does it even matter who my ghost is?"

"I guess not," Timmy shook his head. "If you weren't a teenage girl."

"Why does that have to make such a big deal?" I threw up my arms.

"Timmy, she has a point," Felicia's eyes narrowed at him. "And I know, being a teenage girl myself," she chuckled.

"You know, you're both right," a clear-headedness came to me. "I was flustered for a bit. Don't gloat about making me admit it," I held up my hand.

"It's okay," she shrugged. "I kinda was that way, too."

"You were?" I looked down at the amulet. "Was that some sort of—prince magic?" Did princes have magic? They didn't carry wands.

"I believe so," Timmy scratched under his hat. "If more figurative than literal."

"Black cat hairballs," I clutched the amulet.

"At least we're dark creatures," Felicia held out a hand with a slightly tight smile. "The magic doesn't affect us as much as it would on normal teenage girls."

"Yeah, thank Hecate for that," my hand slackened.

—


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Goldilocks

The sun shone in through the windows.

I rose eagerly. Here was the day where I would make my happily-ever-after! I hurried over to the mirror. What wonders could that potion have done?

But the face in the mirror froze me. That couldn't be me. But the mirror wasn't enchanted. This meant-

 _"AAAARRRGGH!"_ My nose was long, hooked, and had a hairy wart on it! My skin was tinted green! And my hair, my beautiful golden hair, was black, tangled, and all over the place! This was no fairytale look!

Fred flew in. "What's wrong, Goldilocks?" He retreated when he saw me. "You look terrible."

"I've been tricked!" I shrieked, though thankfully in the voice I was familiar with. "This is no Happily-Ever-After Potion! This is—this is a Witch Potion! I want that witch brought back to me, and I want her to fix this!"

"Oh my," he retreated. "I'll get the bears to track her down at once."

"No," I halted him with a raise of my hand. "Hitch them to my carriage. I'll find those undesirables myself."

"As you say, Goldilocks," he fluttered towards the door. "Just for assistance, maybe some of the doves could fly ahead. Keep you in the right direction."

"That seems like a good idea," I rubbed my chin. "Go ahead."

"Got it," he flapped off. "I'll report to you as soon as possible."

I gritted my crooked yellow teeth.

Ophelia's name. Her age. It couldn't be. That witch who had broken into the factory, disobeyed my orders despite all my threats, was the girl the Fairy Godmother feared would ruin happily-ever-after? The Fairy Godmother was supposed to have killed her years ago! How did she escape? Probably because of those two stupid ogres—they must've distracted the Fairy Godmother, giving Ophelia the chance to go into hiding. And now Ophelia was back, probably to try to fulfill her destiny. I should've been flattered Ophelia treated me like a princess—witches envied the beauty of princesses because they knew beauty was the heart of true love, two things they'd never achieve.

But my face still burned. I ran my long, gnarled fingers through my tangles. I washed up and changed into one of my lacy yellow dresses. _"I feel ugly,"_ I tied the laces of my dress, moped in the mirror, my hands to my hollow cheeks, _"Oh, so ugly, I feel ugly and buggy and pained!"_ There was a loud _thump_ on the windowsill. At least my voice had attracted something to the windowsill, the way a princess's voice should. But that thing did sound bigger than a chipmunk or bluebird.

I turned around to see a large vulture outside my window. "Aah!" I jumped back.

When the vulture saw me, it screeched and flew off.

"Why does this day have to just be starting?" I slumped as I turned to my mirror and moped at it, my face in my clawed hands. _"I'm so ugly, vultures see me and fly away!"_ My ugliness and the beauty of the dress clashed to make me look like some sort of clown! What to do about all of this?

I needed some way to feel pretty—the Fairy Godmother's necklace, the thing that made me feel like a princess. I slipped on my shoes, left my room, and headed for the study. I didn't just need the necklace—I needed to figure out what in Far Far Away that Witch Potion was! I pushed past the curtain, went straight for the desk, and slid open the drawer where the necklace was. "Now, where exactly is it?" I rifled through the drawer. "Why isn't it here?" I put it here—the day before Ophelia broke in.

My gut dropped. Not only did she give me an awful Witch Potion, she stole my necklace! And not just any necklace, but one enchanted to lead its bearer to their true love. Now that Ophelia had it, she could ruin Happily-Ever-After!

"That-that thief!" I dug my nails into my palm, shook my fist, and slammed down my feet. I took a deep breath. I had to let this out in a way suitable for the children. _"COLD PORRIDGE!"_ my scream echoed through the land.

I couldn't just stay here. I had to do something. I needed help.

—


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Ophelia

Timmy turned towards the woods. "When will Felicia be back with breakfast?"

"She's probably singing a bird into spontaneous combustion by now to give us some eggs," I remembered her doing that on the way to the factory.

"That'll do," he made a low sound that wasn't a purr.

"You want fish, don't you?" I crossed my arms.

"Believe me," he waved a claw, "When I have bagels for breakfast, I like them with lots of lox. Grilled, crispy..."

The bushes rustled, and Felicia came out empty-handed, leading Bananas behind her.

"No dice?" I blinked.

"We'd better look elsewhere," she scanned the area. "Maybe the lake has fish."

"I hope it does," Timmy's eyes widened to an almost endearing size.

"Ophelia," Felicia's eyes went to my necklace. "I didn't ask about it earlier. How's that ghost project of yours going?"

A warm, strong glow came from the emerald around my neck.

Smoke poured from the jewel, stretched into a large column, and shaped into Bennett.

"Uh oh," I stared at him. How did he just appear like that? Felicia wasn't the one in control. A ghost harnessed to a totem was only supposed to appear when their witch ordered them to. I knew I'd gotten some part of the spell wrong. At least Bennett was still my ghost, and he was as solid as they came.

"Speak of the devil," Felicia swept a hand to him. "Or maybe speak of the angel?"

"Well, no matter what," Timmy shrugged his shoulders, "Good morning, Prince Bennett!"

"Ophelia? Felicia? Timmy? Bananas? _Transparent ectoplasm?"_ Bennett stepped back, his eyes as wide as mine as they darted about and through him. "I'm not dreaming, am I?"

"No," I shook my head. A three hundred and seventeen-year-old astral projection sounded very unlikely.

"I've really been dead for three hundred years," he put a hand to his forehead. "Why did you look upset when you summoned me?"

"I didn't mean to bring you here," I clasped my hands in front of me. "When Felicia asked me about my 'ghost project', you appeared. And you're only suppose to show up under my command."

"Are you saying I'll appear and disappear at random?" He blinked.

"I don't know," I pushed away curls. "You might have some special words, or a haunting pattern. I guess I'll have to know you to find out."

"I can think of a place to start," he raised his shoulders. "What have I missed? You told me a bit about the Fairy Godmother's exploits."

"On those exploits," I tucked strands of stray curls behind my ears, "Did you notice anything—weird about the Fairy Godmother's magic? You knew how much she sought 'happy endings,'" I made air quotes, "So, maybe you noticed if she also used any evil spells."

"I wasn't much involved in her magical affairs other than hearing about epic princess-saving quests, and going on a few," he waved his hand. "Are you thinking about how her poison killed me?"

"I was," I nodded. "When I looked around her factory, I saw she had a portrait of Hecate—this big wicked witch—that was autographed with a heart. And she had lots of evil potions and potion ingredients."

"That does sound contradictory," his mouth pursed.

"I have a partial idea that the Fairy Godmother might've actually been the Wicked Fairy," Felicia spoke up. "It might explain the not-so-happy endings."

"The Wicked Fairy?" A spark of focus came to Bennett's eyes.

"What is it?" She leaned forward. "My idea doesn't have any support, does it?"

"I noticed something about the few princesses I saved," he floated around me. "They were all asleep in their towers."

"Really?" I turned my head from side to side to follow him. "That _does_ sound like something the Wicked Fairy would do. And that Fairy Godmother never really thought much about consent. Did you have to kiss all of the princesses?"

"None of them, actually," he halted and sighed with relief. "I pulled out the thorn in the first one's finger," he raised his index finger, "Gave the second the Heimlich maneuver," his middle finger joined his index, "And I removed the choker around the last one's neck," he lifted his ring finger. "If I had to kiss them, I'd face a catfight of gold-digging bachelorettes," his fingers released. "I was fine with saving princesses, then the Fairy Godmother said I had to _marry_ one of them, and that's when _this_ happened." He pointed through himself, and when he did so, he stuck his index finger through his back. His eyes widened at what he'd done, and he pulled his finger back out with a grimace. "Ugh."

"Ectoplasm's quite a plastic, isn't it?" I remarked. "You'll get used to your new body. Or rather, your lack of a body."

"I miss my old form," Bennett lowered his head.

"At least you seem like you have not changed much," Timmy patted the warm fog of his back.

I looked Bennett over. My summoning charm may have been superb, but my ghost was a cute prince. When I returned to Crone's Nest, I'd be branded a laughing-stock. At least I'd learn how to unlock the amulet's earlier ghosts once I showed Baba Yaga my first one.

Then, there was a hard _crack_ of a branch snapping, followed by the low snuffling of a bear.

"Everybody, _hide!"_ I hissed and pulled myself up a low tree.

Timmy crawled under a bush, while Felicia and Bananas hid behind two wide tree trunks.

Bennett's eyes darted around, then he slipped into the river without a splash.

A carriage pulled by three grizzly bears rolled past, followed by a flock of doves.

A green hand protruded from the carriage window, followed by a wart-covered face. If only Goldilocks hadn't had it coming.

"That witch thief and her friends are nearby, Goldilocks," Fred the dove landed on her long fingers. "I saw some tents a few feet away."

"Search around," Goldilocks waved her hand about. "I want my emerald necklace returned to me, and those ruffians caught." She looked out the window at the river. "Look at that water, Fred. Isn't it beautiful?"

Black cat hairballs. Goldilocks had better not get out of the coach for a water break. Sure, it'd be funny for her to have a ghost scare, but I had a feeling Bennett would squeal on us way too easily.

Then, Timmy's bush rustled, and he emerged on all fours, without clothes, and licked himself. _"Mew,"_ he looked up at the party with eyes as wide as a kitten's.

The three bears halted in their tracks, endearment spreading smiles under their snouts.

The doves, on the other hand, scattered. _"A cat!"_

"Why you—" Goldilocks reached out her hand to try and stop the doves, "Get back here! Mama! Papa! Baby!" She barked at the bears. "Pull yourselves together and help me get my birds back!"

The carriage slowly turned around and went after the doves.

For a few seconds, we all watched with bated breath as the carriage bounced out of sight and earshot.

"Phew!" Timmy sighed and scurried back under his bush. "I was not sure that would work. But fortunately," he spoke over the rustling of leaves and clothing, "She does not remember my face!" He popped out of the bush, back on two legs and in full attire.

"Great idea," Felicia crept out from behind her tree with a grin.

"Oh, I learned it from my mentor, Puss in Boots," he waved his paw.

"You can get out now, Bananas," she half-beckoned, half-dragged the dronkey back into the open.

"What was that all about?" Bennett rose from the river. "Ophelia!" he called up my tree in a sharp voice. "Did you steal that amulet?"

"Well," I climbed down, "Maybe I kinda…yeah," I shrugged.

"How could you have done that?" He crossed his arms.

"I'm a witch!" I spread my arms. "Evil stuff is what I do!"

"Return the amulet," his spectral eyes were icy dots.

"Return it?" I threw out my arms. "I need it for my witch training!"

"Your witch training?" He pointed at me. "You put _that_ above the right thing to do?"

"It's more important than it sounds!" I clawed my hands. "I need to finish witch training to get a nice spell-casting career!"

"There are things more important than a career," he swept out his arm. "Like morality."

"Well, _you've_ never had a career," I jabbed out my hand. "Seventeen-year-old prince?"

"All right," he breathed in. "But don't steal any more necklaces."

"Should I break them up?" Felicia whispered behind us.

"Wait," Timmy held up a paw.

"Look," I dropped my arms with a sigh, "I'm not some goody-two-shoes like you are."

"But you _could_ find another amulet for this witch training of yours, couldn't you?" His face sharpened.

"Yeah, if I had something else of yours," I hitched up my belt. "But I'm not going to make a fuss over finding something like one of your big, clunky swords. And come on," I rolled my eyes, "What gives you the right to tell me what to do?"

Bennett raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"Right," I half-turned and lifted my hand. "Even now that I can do _this?"_ I thrust my hand through his torso, which was like plunging my hand into warm water. Warm? I pulled my arm back. Weren't ghosts supposed to be cold?

"Don't do that!" He clapped his hands to his chest.

"And don't get all heated up about me," I waved my hands. "It's just my nature, as it's your nature to want puppies and kittens and all those sorts of things. Listen," I tried to defend my point, "You make a good argument, but the amulet should be with a magic-user."

"I'm a magic-user," Bennett reached out his hand for the amulet. "And I had it first."

"Fine," I unclipped the amulet. "You take it, then." I fastened it around his neck, but when I let go, it dropped right through him onto the grass. "Whoops."

"Okay," Bennett's brows were low over narrow eyes, his teeth clenched. "You take the necklace—for me. Now, who was that Goldilocks?"

"She's one of the Fairy Godmother's old supporters," I bent down and pulled the amulet from between his legs. "She lives in the magic factory where the Fairy Godmother worked. Felicia, Timmy, Bananas, and I, uh, broke into the factory."

 _"Broke into the factory?"_ Blue flared into his face.

"Should I break them up now?" Felicia hissed again.

"Not yet," Timmy shook his head.

"We did it to find records of witch settlements to restore darkness to Far Far Away," my voice sped up. "She dropped cages on us and bargained with me to make her a Happily-Ever-After Potion in exchange for our freedom."

"A Happily-Ever-After Potion?" Bennett halted. "What does that do?"

"It makes the drinker and their true love typically attractive until midnight, unless they kiss, in which the effects will be permanent," I clipped the amulet back around my neck. "The potion's key ingredient is your hair, so when I knew I had to study it, I needed a substitute, and used my own hair. That's…kinda why Goldilocks is all green and warty right now," I drew back.

"You tricked Goldilocks into drinking a potion that turned her ugly," he raised a finger, "Then you stole her necklace and the key ingredient to making the potion _right?"_

"Yep," I found myself lowering my head. "And I used your hair to summon you."

"So, now it's _gone?_ Why in all of everything am I stuck with you?" He waved his arm.

"Can I do it now?" Felicia asked for a third time.

 _"Sí,"_ Timmy folded.

"Get a hold of yourselves, you two," she stood up and pulled me back by the hem of my cloak. "I know you guys are on two different sides of the playing field, but that doesn't mean we can't get along."

"She's a selfish thief!" Bennett kept his hand pointed at me.

"And someone seems to have forgotten his new…way of being," I shot back with imitated elegance.

"Bennett, Ophelia has been trying to help us restore balance to Far Far Away," she stood firm between us.

"Thanks," I smiled up at her.

"And Ophelia, _you_ need to adjust a bit for your ghost," she shot me a look.

"Fine," I grumbled low.

Then, Bananas raised his head in the air, sniffing with his large nostrils. His usual wall-eyed expression snapped in one eager direction.

"Uh oh," Felicia seized his collar. _"Yeaaagh!"_

He pulled her into the air and into the distance.

"This is gonna be fun," I grabbed my broom and took off.

"Felicia!" Bennett half-ran, half-glided below us.

"Get up here!" I jabbed my finger from him to the clouds. "You're a ghost now, remember? You can fly!"

"How do I…" His eyes jumped from me to the grass.

"Shoot your body into the air!" I spat out the words.

"I don't know if this will work," he bent his knees and jumped up. He hurtled straight into the sky. _"Aaah!"_ He flailed in mid-air and tried to flap himself down. "Whoa-whoa—I can't do this!"

"You're already doing it!" I threw out my arm. "Just get comfortable! Flying on a broomstick the first time wasn't easy for me."

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh," he heaved and steadied his arms in the wing position. "Okay, I think that feels better."

"Smart of you not to put your arms at your side," I scanned his form. "I don't think you'd like the wind pushing you faster." Not that it was always a bad thing, but it wasn't good for beginning flyers.

—


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Bennett

I tried to keep my breathing steady. "Just keep your arms out…you're like a sail…nothing to it…" I nearly flipped over with a change in the wind. "Agh!" Now I really didn't like being a ghost. I pushed myself back onto my stomach. I just had to take control of my new body in the air, nothing to it. No, I was trying to fool myself. I'd never flown through the sky as a ghost before. Was I even doing this right?

Breezes rushed around me, through me. My gut lurched. I had thought a galloping stallion was a ride, but compared to this, it was sitting in a carriage. The lack of solidity was what did it. Before, I always had some degree of security, being snug in my own flesh. But now, my soul was exposed to the elements.

This couldn't be happening. Was it happening? It was as if I had been turned inside out. The warmth once within my body now radiated from my naked soul. I had to reach the earth, find something to settle in. But I couldn't. Yet something firm was out there, I just felt it inside me, like a rope around my chest.

Me with a talking, clothed cat, an ogress, a strange dragon-like creature, and a witch my age who was so…infuriating? They weren't shallow damsels and stuffy courtiers, but change didn't always mean improvement. I stared up at Bananas the dronkey as he yanked Felicia into the sky.

They were dark creatures, I was the light, I could just leave them. Why would I stay and aid them? But they had a quest to restore the adventures the Fairy Godmother had suppressed. And the Fairy Godmother had not been as light as she appeared, so why shouldn't I aid the darkness? A voice deep within me hissed that it could lead to me avenging my own death. My better nature, one of the loudest voices in my head, told me that I should be part of this band.

"I can't believe this," Ophelia's grumble yanked me back to my current situation.

"Wait for me!" Timmy puffed to keep up below.

I soared in a loop back down to Timmy, reached out my arms, but they went right through him.

"I've got it," Ophelia flew down to me, collared Timmy by his scruff, and plopped him onto her broom. "Let's go."

"I am rather surprised you did that," he looked up at her. "Thank you."

"I'm surprised I did it, too," she raised her shoulders.

They thought being kind and polite was difficult? Had more happened in this world when I died besides adventures coming to a close?

Ophelia soared after the magenta blob in the sky that was Bananas.

I hovered beside her and pushed through the wind.

We caught up to Bananas as he lowered himself near a building topped by a faded sign of a monk beside the words _Friar's Fat Boy._

"Bananas," Timmy gripped his hat, "I am doing my best to shed a few pounds!"

But he landed with a _thump_ beside the entrance, and Felicia struck the ground on her heels behind him.

"Are you all right?" I flew to her side.

"Fine," she winced. "No, no," she tried to tug Bananas from the glass door, but he pushed inside, jingling the bell.

"Well, we do need breakfast," Timmy jumped off of my broom once we landed. "Felicia!" He darted after her. "Do not worry! I will do the talking and the paying."

"I'll help you," the words jumped from my mouth as I floated after him.

He pushed a door open with the _jingle_ of a mounted bell.

A bright, pristine diner spread around me, with linoleum counters, chessboard tiles, and red leather booths.

All the customer's eyes jerked towards us, some people even calling in checks and hurrying out.

"On second thought," Timmy dropped a coin purse on the table, "Bennett, you do the ordering. I have to help Felicia pull back this leash." He seized the chain and, with Felicia, dragged Bananas step by step from the double nautical kitchen doors.

"Me? Do the ordering?" My eyes jumped from the purse to the tall blackboard of orders behind the counter, then through myself. What to order here?

There were quite a lot of strange, humble things on this menu. Were restaurants supposed to serve things like these…milkshakes? Were they butter covered in sprinkles? And what were those Oreo things on top?

I'd never eaten anything in the dish called the Medieval Meal. And why did it come with "choice of quiver of arrows or an axe?"

"What do you think of this place?" Ophelia joined me in front of the counter.

"Not quite to my standards," I scanned the diner.

There were no napkins on the tables, unless those brown things in those silver boxes were napkins. Next to the silver boxes were pairs of red and yellow bottles. Where there should have been many little dishes of spices, there were only two glass jars of salt and pepper. This world did appear to have lost its decorum.

"It is a little flat," Ophelia shrugged. "And their signs do need a paint job. What were you thinking?"

"What on earth are all of these things?" I gestured up to the menu. "Do you eat roast dog covered in mustard nowadays?"

"What?" She blinked, then chuckled. Was I missing a jest? "A hot dog is another name for a sausage, Bennett."

Then why not call it that? Wasn't it rather confusing? "And what are those bottles on all the tables?" I pointed to them.

"That's the ketchup and mustard," a grin spread across her face. "They're the…sauces poured on the meals."

"Do they have anything else? Perhaps quail sauce?"

"Quail sauce?" Ophelia snorted into her hands.

"Why not?" I raised my eyebrows.

"You want roasted dormice with that?" She raised an eyebrow.

What was going on here? Things had changed a great deal in three centuries, but such changes had not been for the better.

"Sorry about that," a drawling woman's voice interrupted. A woman in a white dress with an ovular name tag reading _Priscilla_ upon it slid behind the desk. "What brings you two here to _Friar's Fat Boy?"_ She halted at the counter and stared through me. Her mouth was in a tense discussion of whether to droop in pity or curl in contempt. Finally, the former won.

"There are three others with us, Madam," I pointed to Timmy and Felicia, who shoved Bananas into a booth. "We're just here for breakfast."

"Any dietary restrictions or demands?" Her eyes narrowed over our motley crew.

"Um…" Ophelia looked over at me, "Ghosts can't eat, our cat would like a bagel with lox, and—" she turned behind her.

"Three orders of waffles!" Felicia called.

"—That's it," she nodded.

"Any beverage orders to give to the server?" Priscilla scribbled down on a notepad.

"Water will do for everyone," I shrugged. Well, almost everyone. I couldn't eat? I didn't feel hungry at all, anyway.

The door jingled as a knight and a giant strode and squeezed into the diner.

"Look, you've got company!" Priscilla waved a hand to them.

"I thought Goldilocks would be here," the knight turned to the giant. "She always goes here to eat."

Goldilocks? I soared over to the booth the two picked, which was right next to ours. "Hello," I clasped my hands in front of me, "Pardon me for overhearing, but are you looking for Goldilocks?"

The giant recoiled.

"Don't panic, Blunderbore," the knight held up a gauntleted hand. "He doesn't seem dangerous." He turned back to me. "We are," he laid his sword on the table. "Have you seen her?"

"Yes, in the woods," I nodded. "She's rather in a bad state."

"That explains it, Sir Kay," the giant turned down to his armored companion. "Too ashamed to be in public. Wonder how it could've happened," he sighed.

My eyes glanced between him and Ophelia. Perhaps it was best not to say.

"How did you find her?" The giant's green eyes traced over me, especially my hair and lower face.

"I've been traveling through the woods with some people," I raised my shoulders.

He held up an enormous hand, feeling the warm air from my astral body. "I thought ghosts were cold."

"Bennett?" Felicia turned around and darted over. "What are you doing?"

"These people are looking for Goldilocks," I gestured to them, "So I gave them directions."

"Sorry to just pop in," Sir Kay jerked up from the booth. "We have to find our friend."

"I understand," I raised my shoulders.

Felicia watched the two leave, then shot me a look as lethal as the Huntsman's poisoned arrow.

"What is it?" I flew back.

"Do you realize who you just talked to?!" She threw out an arm. "Of course not," she slapped her forehead. "Way after you died."

"Who are they?" I clutched my hands.

"Those three and Goldilocks are old cronies of the Fairy Godmother," she dropped her arm.

Allies of my murderer? "I-I didn't know, my deepest apologies…" But my murder was far before their time, so I couldn't be too harsh.

"No ectoplasmic sweat," she waved her hand. "Just know that next time, you let the rest of us do the talking."

"What's going on?" Ophelia looked over her shoulder from her seat.

"Your ghost just gave the Fairy Godmother's other cronies directions to find Goldilocks," Felicia crossed her arms.

"Hey, easy on the new guy," she tutted with her wand. "I'm just getting into the mission, too."

"Thanks," I gave her a smile.

"No big deal," she sighed. "I know this world's a lot different than the one you lived in."

I had made that quite obvious. My face flushed when I recalled the past moments.

—


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Goldilocks

That gang of troublemakers were nearby, I just knew it as the coach rumbled on. What could happen now?

 _"None shall pass!"_ A knight on a horse galloped in front of the coach, waving a sword.

"Sir Kay?" I gasped as the bears backed away.

 _"Fee, fi, foe, fond!"_ A huge figure marched in front of me. _"I smell the blood of a dumb blonde!"_

Dumb blonde? "Excuse me?" I craned my neck to look into his enormous nostrils.

"Don't stereotype, Blunderbore," Sir Kay _clopped_ in front of him. "I'm sure Goldilocks just had a clear idea that didn't work."

"And besides," I stepped out of the coach, "I'm brunette for today."

Sir Kay's horse reared up with a _whinny_ when it saw my wart-covered green face.

"I'm glad you've gotten comeuppance for your idiocy," Sir Kay patted his steed down.

"I know, I've been the butt of a witch practical joke," I clawed my hand. "Do you have anything else to say?"

His voice lowered and sharpened behind his helmet. "Did you let a teenage girl into the factory?"

"Yes," I stuck my hand in my black tangles, "But she broke in! And I was desperate for a magic-user to brew me the Happily-Ever-After Potion, she was an apprentice, so—I thought nothing bad could happen! How do you all even know about it, anyway?" My ugly face couldn't have told them _that_ much.

"Because last night, near the factory, the Prince returned." Sir Kay's glare was audible through his helmet.

 _"What?"_ Everything halted for a moment. The Prince returned? But how? Did that witch find out where he was and decided to break a curse for once?

"The Fairy Godmother should've just killed him!" Sir Kay donned a falsetto. I could just imagine him batting his eyes under his helmet. "Oh, I have to do nice things all the time! I advertise the Prince so much, I can't even murder him! I'll just make him sleep forever, because surely he won't attract any attention being locked in a very high, very protected tower and having eternal youth!" He dropped his falsetto. "She should've learned a thing or two from Koschei the Deathless! He murdered Prince Siegfried and continued his reign of terror!"

"Until Prince Ivan showed up and avenged his past life," I burst his bubble. "The Fairy Godmother had to send Bennett to eternal sleep so his soul would never go against her." Though sometimes I wondered what he was like up and about.

"Then, seventeen years ago," Sir Kay put a gauntlet on his hip, "A common girl was born with magic and the heart of a princess. A girl named Ophelia. Tell me, was she the one who broke into your factory?"

"Yes," my head dropped.

"How did she awaken Bennett while being in your factory?"

"I'm-I'm not sure," I raised a hand to my rat's nest. "She tricked me into drinking a Witch Potion, stole a jar of prince hair, and a beautiful necklace that Bennett had wanted to give his true love." I paused. "Perhaps the necklace did it. But she'd have to have teleported Bennett from the tower to the factory, and the Fairy Godmother had spells forbidding teleportation from the tower!" If she didn't move Bennett from the tower, how did his spirit return? I really had to find Ophelia now. "I was looking for her before you showed up," I climbed back into the coach. "Want to join me?"

"Where are we going?" Blunderbore bent down.

"All around the woods," I held an arm out of the coach. "She can't have traveled into the city; that's not what witches do."

"But she's not a normal witch," he raised a large hand. "Her parents were regular peasants."

"She's grown up as a normal witch," I countered. "She's got the pointy hat and everything."

"Sometimes nature overwhelms nurture," Sir Kay shook his helmeted head. "Especially around potential destiny."

"But our efforts aren't in vain, are they?" My shoulders tensed.

"Of course not!" He waved a gauntleted hand. "We overpower her!"

Then, there came a loud _crack_ and a rustling _crunch._

 _"Mamma mia!"_ A voice called from the bushes beyond. "Felicia, why did you pour all that maple syrup on your dronkey's waffles? You have gotten him on a deforesting sugar high!"

I knew those troublemakers were close. Then, an idea ignited in me. "Everyone!" I hissed. "I think I know how we can find out why the Prince returned."

"What's your plan?" Blunderbore's eyes narrowed.

"Blunderbore," I stretched my neck up to him, "You're a hungry giant attacking this coach, and I'm a princess."

"And what's my job?" Sir Kay leaned forward.

"You're going to pretend to try to fight Blunderbore, but you can't defeat him alone, and you're calling for help. If this all works, Prince Bennett will come right over to us."

"That sounds like a plan," he trotted off. "Are you ready, Blunderbore?" He drew his sword.

"Okey-dokey!" Blunderbore saluted. _"Aaargh!"_ He lunged at the coach. _"Fee, fi, fo, fum!_ I am a great, scary giant who wants to eat a princess!"

"Help me! Help me!" I screamed as Blunderbore rattled the coach. All this noise would definitely attract Prince Bennett.

"There is no one coming to rescue you!" Blunderbore gave a low, hollow laugh.

"Not quite, you monster!" Sir Kay galloped forward.

"More lunch!" Blunderbore's large hand seized him around the waist and pulled him off his horse.

"Oh no!" He threw up his arms. "We need more help! If only there was someone greater than me who could fight off this giant!"

Then, the ghostly blue figure of a comely young man soared through the trees. His eyes were unfamiliar, but I recognized the hair swept about his head, the soft structure of his face. Prince Bennett? Why was he transparent? Had the Fairy Godmother's potion failed to keep him alive after those ogres killed her?

Prince Bennett floated over to Blunderbore, sharp eyes raised. He took a deep breath and took a firm stance. Then one cry came out of his mouth. "Boo!"

Blunderbore's head yanked right over to him, eyes wide. He dropped Sir Kay back on his saddle with a _clang. "YEEEAAAAA!"_ He hightailed it, charging off into the distance.

"Yes!" Sir Kay charged after him. "Get out of here, you scurvy monster! Leave the noble lady alone!"

"Are you all right?" Prince Bennett flew over to the carriage and stopped at the sight of me.

"Yes," I nodded.

"I'm glad my first attempt at being a spook was successful," Prince Bennett shrugged with a humble smile.

Oh God, why was he even cuter with his eyes open? "And this," I raised one of my gnarled green hands, "Is because of a spell a wicked witch put on me."

He stared over my hands and my carriage. "She's not around my age, is she? Named Ophelia?"

Cold porridge. Were we too late? "Have you met her?" My voice tightened.

"I'm her ghost," he raised a hand. "She told me of her little 'prank' on you."

Well, now I was screwed. But if he thought he was dead, this might come in handy. "Look, Prince Bennett," I leaned forward.

"You know who I am?" His spectral eyes widened.

"Your tragic death at the hands of that hunter has been told all over royal history," I waved a hand.

"Really?" Blue rose to his cheeks. "I'll have to ask people about it." Then, his face sharpened. "But you worked for the Fairy Godmother, didn't you? The one who sent the Huntsman to murder me. Was this whole giant attack a trick?"

"We didn't think you'd show up to help us like this, Prince Bennett," I said quickly but honestly. "This run-in wasn't intended at all!"

"If you leave my companions alone, they won't harm you further," his face stayed firm. "I'll make sure of that. Goodbye." He flew off.

"Blunderbore, calm yourself!" Sir Kay trotted back over. "That was part of the plan!" He grumbled under his breath. "I should have known Bennett the ghost was the Prince the moment I saw him in that diner. Goldilocks," his unseen eyes shuttled over to me, "Do you know why Prince Bennett looks like that now? He hasn't died, has he?"

"No," I shook my head as an old memory with the Fairy Godmother rose in me. "I think he's something called—an astral projection."

"A what?" Sir Kay cocked his head.

"An astral projection," I repeated at a slower pace. At least I was the smart one now. "A spirit separated from a living body by magic. Ophelia summoned Bennett by mistake; she thinks he's an ordinary ghost."

"So, is the…non-ghost Prince Bennett out of his tower?" Sir Kay raised his epaulets.

"No, he's still asleep up there, thank God," my puffed sleeves dropped, "But if his soul and those troublemakers find the tower, he'll be up and about again. The Fairy Godmother's dream will be completely unraveled."

"Really?" Sir Kay pulled back. "But what about all those dark creatures who are banding together?" He raised a gauntleted hand. "Shouldn't they be our real concern? Witches and ogres shouldn't be allowed to run free in the towns and villages."

"Anyone can be bad," I shook my head with a smile. "Don't you know that well from where you started? And I've been breaking, entering, stealing, and sabotaging since I was a little girl."

"Fine point there," he poked one of my puffed sleeves.

"And being good isn't that easy," I added with a wave of my hand. "When a kindly, sweet person like Bennett comes along, he attracts attention. People aren't used to such goodness, but they seek more of it—they can never get enough." Why couldn't they prefer what they had?

—


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Bennett

"What were you doing?" Timmy put his paws on his hips when he saw me float back.

"I saw Goldilocks," I pointed behind me. "She reunited with her friends and had a little…skit where the giant pretended to scare them. I had to check to see if things were all right."

"All right, we're moving out of here," Ophelia mounted her broomstick. "Felicia, try to get that sugar-stuffed dronkey of yours in control." Her eyes narrowed over a glare that went from Bananas to me.

"What's wrong with all this?" I threw down my arms. "The Fairy Godmother killed me and caused all our problems. Goldilocks and her crew haven't harmed us."

"What about sticking most of us in cages?" Ophelia gestured around.

"You were put in cages because you broke into Goldilocks's factory!" I thrust out my hand. "What would you do if someone broke into your home?"

"All right, you have a point," she stuck a hand under her hair with a sigh. "But why are you so nice? You're the total opposite of the rest of us."

Timmy cleared his throat and twirled his épée. "Ahem?"

"Uh, _almost_ the rest of us," her eyes went down to him with a tight face.

"That's because I _am_ the opposite of most of you," I clenched my hand. "I am the Prince."

"Yeah, I know," she rolled her eyes, then halted. "Wait," her eyes widened. "Is that—capitalized?"

"Yes," I nodded. She must've found that out in her history books of dark magic.

"What makes you get a capital letter?" She hovered in midair.

"I am the manifestation of the light," I pointed to my chest, "As the ogres and witches are manifestations of darkness."

"All the light? In you?" She tutted over my transparent body. "I'm not the mistress of the fairytale world and all that, but shouldn't there be lots of Princes, just as there are lots of ogres and witches? Someone up there should've realized that having just one of you could lead to the end of the light. This whole thing isn't exactly practical." She rubbed her long chin. "Hang on, if you're the light, then how were things in balance before you were born?"

"I can explain all of this," I raised my hands and stared through them. "While there is only one Prince, he always gets reborn right after death. That way, the world will always have hope, joy, and a leader against evil. I had many past lives before I became Prince Bennett, and I was expected to have lives after this one. But I wasn't reborn, and with me gone—"

"—Everyone has turned into a cynical sourpuss," Timmy sniffed. "But if you are supposed to be reborn right after death, why are you a ghost?"

"I don't know," I grasped my hair. "The poison must've killed my magic along with me." And if my magic was destroyed… "I-I can't live again," my hands moved down to my face. What could I possibly do now? A Prince with no chance of living again was like a voiceless bird.

Timmy doffed his hat and lowered his head.

"We just can't have a balance, Timmy," Felicia scratched his ears. "Bringing back the darkness will be good enough, if the only thing we can do."

"And who knows?" Timmy raised his head and plopped his hat back on. "Fate works in mysterious ways in this world. We might get the chance to restore the balance after all."

"It all depends on if Fate favors us," Felicia's eyes turned skyward.

"Yeah, right, like Fate would ever bless us with a happy ending," Ophelia muttered.

I wished I could give them hope, but without a chance at rebirth? Trying to assure them of a good outcome would just be denial on my part. If I knew my reincarnation would die with me, would I still have run off all those years ago? I remembered how Princess Hydrangea never referred to me by name. But those with me now always called me Bennett. Everything was wild and unsure now, but maybe I needed that. A different story from my usual tale. Flying around light as a feather was enjoyable.

But I still wanted a return to the familiar story at some time.

"I wish I could just…wake up from this," I sighed.

"You still don't like our company?" Ophelia lifted an eyebrow.

"No, no, I mean—I wish everything could be the way it was before," I held up a hand and gazed through it.

"We know how you feel," Felicia nodded.

"But you've never been in one era, then landed in a completely different one, have you?"

"No," she dropped her shoulders, "But we want things back in balance, too, so we at least understand you a little. Don't we?"

"Yes," I managed a smile. "Ophelia," I took a breath as I turned to her, "I can't believe I'm asking about evil potions, but do you know what poison stopped my rebirth?"

"Rebirth-stopping poisons?" She raised her eyes. "They sound awfully potent, but I've never heard of any potion that could affect the soul. Either the Fairy Godmother was even more powerful than we thought, or something's going on here."

"If we find the poison that did this," I gestured down to myself, "We could figure it all out." My thoughts began to race aloud. "We could go back to the clearing where I was killed, and find the Huntsman's arrow!" I had a quest, one I had chosen for myself. An old excitement rose in me, stronger than it had ever been before. With a quest ahead, I was closer to who I was. Perhaps I could even be who I was. If I found out why I hadn't come back, could I find a way to return? But would the others let me go on this journey? Would they go with me? I would be lost in this strange new world without them.

Ophelia's mouth dropped open. "You want us to travel around even _more?"_

"What did you have in mind?" My brow tensed. Was this a bad idea?

"I wanted to get all this witch-finding business done with those guys," she paced away from me, "Then go right back to Crone's Nest and show you to the High Witch."

"Crone's Nest…" my eyes widened. "That's in Duloc."

"Yeah," her eyes traced back to me. "What're you thinking?"

"I was killed in a forest in Duloc," I gestured to the woods. "Perhaps we could find the other witches, then find out what really happened to me."

"We'd be going back over 700 miles," she grumbled, "But there could be other witches on that route. And…" A cunning gleam came to her hazel eyes. "Okay, Bennett, you've got yourself a deal." She turned to Felicia and Timmy. "How about you guys?"

"I never turn down the chance to prove myself a hero," Timmy puffed out his chest. "More of a journey could help me better prove myself as an adventurer! And we could find plenty of good dining areas, too."

"I'm game," Felicia shrugged. "Helping people is what I like to do."

"Thank you so much," excitement rushed in me.

"Let me pull up these pegs," she soared over to the larger tent. "We're taking the scenic route home."

Bananas' eyes widened over a sharp-toothed grin, and he darted over to her.

"And so the mad whirl continues," I shook my head as I followed them.

"I know," Ophelia snorted. "Traveling around with these guys?"

I found I chuckled as well.

She stuck a thumb back to the tents. "They pulled me into this mess, too."

"Really?" We shared more than just this group and my necklace? The smile stayed on my face. "What happened?"

"I was just the average apprentice witch, flying around, causing trouble, minding my own business," she waved her hand, "Then Felicia, Timmy, and Bananas showed up at my witch school and persuaded the High Witch to make me join their quest to restore the balance and all that stuff. I'm as much stuck with them as you are."

"I thought you chose to go on this mission," I held out my hands. "You just appeared to be in charge."

"It's a loner attitude thing," she shrugged.

"But if you are someone who enjoys being alone," I lowered my head, "Why did you accept the quest and summon me?"

Ophelia halted. "Well, I-I just did it to move forward in my witch training, all right?"

"But why keep me with you?" I floated forwards. "When you summoned me the first time, that could have been enough for you."

"Haven't you ever heard the saying misery loves company?" She sighed to the grass a foot under her. "Plus," she lifted her eyes, "You seem like a helpful guy who'd like an adventure."

"Thank you," I truly smiled at her now.

"We have a ways to go before we return to Duloc," she rubbed her chin. "If you want to learn about what killed you, we should go to the Fairy Godmother's factory; we might find the poison."

"Wait a minute," Felicia held up a hand. "You want us to return to the factory? What if Goldilocks catches us and sticks us in cages again?"

"I won't let that happen," I swept my arm aside. "If Goldilocks can listen to me, then I can talk her into freeing you." And if that didn't work, I could help them escape; there were few dungeons I hadn't gotten out of in my past lives.

Felicia's face was still tense with uncertainty.

"Come on," Ophelia raised her shoulders. "Let's give the new guy a chance to scare up some success." She elbowed Felicia.

"Fine," she groaned with a hand to her face. "Let's go back to the factory."

I faded away into the warm darkness of the beyond, then returned to the living world in front of a building I barely recognized.

The last time I saw the factory, the stones were sparkling marble, and no tree dared to hide the factory's facade.

But now, thick bushes of ivy crept around and over the dirty gray walls. They looked as if they wanted to yank the entire building down into the earth.

"This place is different than I remember," my eyes traced over the factory's now-crumbling turrets of chimneys and loose bricks on the long roof.

The crumbling, overgrown walls made the whole building seem much smaller than it had been in the past. Didn't the Fairy Godmother's supporters think of keeping their mistress's factory in shape, at least out of respect for her? But if the factory wasn't tended to much, this could mean sneaking in would be easier than we thought.

"Great, they fixed the hole," Ophelia punched a spot on the stone wall in front of us. "How are we going to get in this time?"

"Ghosts can walk through walls, can't they?" I raised a finger. "I could float in and find a way where you could follow me."

"That could avoid a lot of trouble," her eyes brightened. "Try it out."

I flew forward, but instead of passing through the wall, I went back to the warm darkness of the beyond. I quickly gathered myself back to the others.

"What was that?" Felicia blinked. "When you headed for the wall, you just went _poof_ in a puff of smoke. Did you go through?"

"No," I shook my head. "I'm sorry."

"Well, _that_ didn't work," Ophelia blinked at me, then drooped. "There's another way I didn't summon you perfectly."

"I can't believe we're at square one again!" Felicia punched the wall, then struck it again.

"Maybe we should blast through another wall?" Ophelia drew her wand.

 _"Mi scusi?"_ Timmy's forelegs were crossed, round face tight in an irritated frown.

"We can't just knock on the door pretending to be representatives of a magic union," she tapped her wand on her chin.

 _Wham. Wham. Wham._ Felicia gave literal meaning to the idea of banging one's head against a wall.

"Excuse me?" I raised a hand for Timmy.

 _"Ahem!"_ He cleared his throat loudly.

All heads turned.

"What?" Felicia rubbed her forehead.

"I have an idea!" He threw up his paws. "Listen, everyone," he waved us close into a huddle. "We do not need magic or brute strength; all we need is a good plan!"

"And what's your idea?" Ophelia raised an eyebrow over crossed arms.

"We have to rig it like a heist or a secret rescue operation," Timmy paced in front of us, "Like the missions I always did with my siblings. We need someone stealthy to do the job," he held up a claw, "We need a diversion to distract our enemies, and we need people in between to make sure it all goes smoothly."

"Timmy, you and I can do the stealth job," I held out a hand. "I'm translucent, so I'll blend into things, and you can hide and pretend to be an ordinary cat."

"Good idea," Timmy put a claw to his chin. "I am with you on the stealth job. If we are caught, we can fight our way out!" He raised his épée.

If only I'd died with my sword on.

"I've got our diversion right here," Felicia pulled Bananas in.

A wall-eyed dragon hybrid would definitely attract attention.

"Which means that you and I are the middle people," Ophelia pointed to herself and Felicia. "Checking corners, handling anyone who sees us," she waved her wand.

"Then, it's all set," Felicia cracked her large, green knuckles. "Question is," she raised her head, "How do we get in?"

My eyes traced from the factory's sturdy walls to its tall, thick chimneys. The chimneys lit an idea in me. Would they be the right width? "I think I found a way," I pointed upwards. "Could we go down the chimneys?"

Felicia followed my gaze. "You want us to slide into the factory like Ogre Claus?"

"It is our only way in," Timmy latched onto the wall and started to heave himself up.

"I'll give you a lift," Ophelia chuckled, tossed him onto her broomstick, and flew to the roof.

I zipped after them and joined them on one of the four large tower-like chimneys upon the rusty red roof.

Felicia flew up to us on Bananas.

"Now," Timmy slipped off the broom, "We must remember our setup. Bennett and I do the sneaking, Ophelia and Felicia are the lookouts, and Bananas is the diversion. Do we all have it?"

Bananas gave a loud, snorting _hee-haw._

"Close enough is good enough, I suppose," Timmy sighed down. "Here we go!" He jumped down the chimney.

"Timmy!" Felicia shot out a hand. "Don't jump down—"

Bananas leapt in after him, and there was a _thud_ with a _crack._

 _"Yeeooww!"_

"—first," she winced.

A tense pause hung in the air, then—

"I-I have gotten myself out from under the dragon," Timmy's pain was audible. "You can come down now."

"I'll go next," I soared down the vast pipe of stone. A ghost couldn't crush anyone.

Air whistled past me, through me as I took a nosedive. For a moment, the shaft almost seemed bottomless.

Then, Bananas's distinct bat wings and scaly magenta back drew close in front of me.

Beside him was Timmy, who was gingerly getting to his back paws.

"Are you okay?" I lowered my legs to standing as I nearly landed on the brick floor of the hearth.

"I—have been better," Timmy pulled his spine straight with a _crack._ "Where are we?"

A vast, dim, steely room spread out in front of us. It was as if we were inside the stomach of some strange machine. The walls were strikingly reflective, though smudged, spotted, and dusty. Multiple dronkeys, clothed cats, and ghosts stared back at us. My eyes traced gold and silver outlines on the walls, which made them look like the honeycombs of a beehive. Mirror frames, squares and circles, hexagons and octagons. But the room wasn't entirely walls of mirrors. Axes, swords, maces, clubs, and quivers of arrows hung on the wall, adding to the sharpness of the chamber.

But in a strange, almost comic juxtaposition to the arms was an enormous wardrobe at the front of the room that looked like it could be a fantastical gateway in disguise. Who had been in control of this room? I could hardly imagine the Fairy Godmother in fencing attire.

There was a light _thump_ behind us, and Ophelia followed me out of the hearth. "This must be Prince Narcissist's armory," she muttered under her breath as her eyes went from the wardrobe to the weapons. Did I hear that wrong?

My eyes lifted back to the wall of arms, and stopped at a familiar short, thin blade with a curling, cross hilt. "That's the sword I took with me when I tried to run away," I pointed up at it.

"Old-fashioned, but elegant," Timmy nodded in approval.

Elegant? Maybe I hadn't thought through my plan as well as I'd thought. At least I gotten my wish not to look like a prince anymore, though not in the way I wanted.

I caught sight of more of my arms. My shield mounted next to my sword, the fish coat of arms upon it shining in the reflected light. My bow hung in a corner, my lance leaned against a wall.

"What sort of armory is this?" Timmy stepped out of the hearth onto a deep purple carpet with the emblem of a fierce dragon that had a rather uncanny resemblance to Bananas. "Who would need a great wardrobe like that for fighting?" He looked up to me. "Would you?"

"Just a uniform for fencing and a fancier one for tournaments," I shook my head and turned to Ophelia. "You said it belonged to a…Prince Narcissus?"

 _"Narcissist._ Anyway, I was joking," she held up her hand with a sigh. "I was talking about that guy." She pointed above the wardrobe.

My eyes lifted to follow her finger, and found a large, mounted portrait. I could have admired its majesty, its ornate detail, if a tidal wave of revulsion had not crashed through me.

It was me, yet it was not me, as if my former shape had become another's costume. The same waves of hair, parted and combed exactly as they would be before a grand ball, but thinner, and a platinum-streaked blonde. My face, but square-featured instead of smooth, and without the softness of youth. Instead of the wide, warm emerald eyes I once had, there were blue ones, as thin and pale as the spikes from snowy rooftops. The nose was long and pointed, not my average-sized, upturned nose. My favorite periwinkle doublet with silver-white trim, but the chest was too broad and protuberant to be my own.

"Who is this?" My upper lip rose as I floated forward. Then, my eyes went past the overlarge feet of this false self to a heavy-looking, curling plaque upon the thick frame. _"Prince Charming?"_

"This is…rather peculiar," Timmy's eyes jumped from the portrait to my reflection beside it. "So different, yet so similar. Is it true you were a brunette?"

"Yes," I nodded. "Where did you learn that?"

"I told him about a lock of your hair that I used for your summoning potion," Ophelia's eyes traced over my translucent teal waves, then back to Charming's portrait. "That guy sure went overboard trying to do you better, didn't he?"

"He does look a little unnatural," my eyes stopped at the too-shiny red lips. "If he wanted to build on my looks to an extreme, he succeeded."

"Only artificially so, of course," Timmy tutted. "Having a beauty spot, and, of course, blonde hair."

"His eyes are different, too," mine narrowed. "I had green eyes. Do you think the Fairy Godmother used magic to try to make Charming resemble me?"

"I believe so," Timmy rubbed his whiskers. "Your lifespans were too far apart for you to be related. Perhaps he took Happily-Ever-After Potion with your hair in it. _Mamma mia,"_ he shook his head and began to pace. "Felicia's and Bananas's fathers drank your hair, Goldilocks nearly drank your hair, this Prince Charming likely drank your hair—how on Earth was the Fairy Godmother able to get your hair? Did she steal your brush after she ordered your murder?"

"That's not how those spells work," Ophelia shook her head. "You need to pluck or cut the hair from the head to make an efficient disguising potion. Anyone can take strands of hair from clothing or brushes, but they don't work as well, and you can get the wrong hair by mistake."

"If the Fairy Godmother needed hair right from my head," I raised a finger. "Does that mean—she had my head? Perhaps even in this factory?"

Timmy clapped a hand to his mouth as he held back a retch.

"Let's not get too dark, Bennett," Ophelia waved her hand. "To believe I'm saying that. What we do know is that the Fairy Godmother cast at least a basic embalming charm on your head to keep your hair on your scalp, and she had to have easy access to it. Hair doesn't need to be put in a disguising potion right after it's plucked."

"So, we do not have to look out for pickled heads?" Relief came to Timmy's face.

"But you do have to look out for me," a nasal female voice came from behind us.

We spun around to see Goldilocks, her warty green arms crossed.

Doves bearing ropes hovered around her.

"I came back to pack for a trip to track you down," she stepped forward, "But it seems finding you was easier than I thought."

 _"Felicia!"_ Ophelia yelled up. "Don't go down that chimney! Goldilocks is here in the room with us! Timmy, get up there and help Felicia!" She pointed up the chimney. "Goldilocks will be easier on us if I stay here."

Timmy first halted, then firmed his face, rushed into the hearth, and scurried up. "We will rescue you soon!"

Or we would find a rendezvous point.

"Let's see how much an ogre and a fat little cat can do," Goldilocks smirked. "But where are my manners?" Her eyes went to me and glistened. "Welcome to my home, the factory of the Fairy Godmother," she batted her eyes. "Or, for you two," she turned to Ophelia and Bananas, "Welcome back."

"I'm glad you can provide some pleasantries," my voice sharpened.

"Listen, Your Majesty," Goldilocks curtsied, "You're not trouble for me. I heard what happened to you. It wasn't easy for the Fairy Godmother to get rid of you, just so you know," she slouched her shoulders.

"What do you mean by that?" My hand clenched.

"She had to do it because you were a threat to what happily-ever-after should be. But she could never create a prince who lived up to your goodness. She always called Charming 'Junior' to let him know that," she gestured up to the portrait.

"Who was he?" I followed her arm.

"Your 'replacement,'" she rolled her eyes. "Looking you both over, I can hardly believe the Fairy Godmother thought you two were alike."

"She didn't want someone like me because I didn't follow her orders," I raised my head.

"Oh, yes, she told Charming that too much," Goldilocks primped her ringlets, looking exactly like that snooty princess Hydrangea who almost married me. "I heard her snapping at him all the time when I was just a little girl hunting for her secret chocolate stash in the factory."

Secret chocolate stash? If I wasn't dead and my companions weren't in danger…

"Anyway," she waved her hand, "As I said, you're no criminal, Prince Bennett. Now, go off and find someplace nicer to be. Where do you go when you're not with Ophelia?"

"I'm staying here," I crossed my arms.

Ophelia's eyes widened.

"What?" Goldilocks jerked back. "You actually want to stay with these undesirables? Who pose a threat to all that is good and orderly?"

"I know it's not good, Goldilocks," I gave her a firm stare. "And these 'undesirables' have helped me adjust to a strange new world." I took a deep breath. "I won't leave without them."

"Fine then," she threw down her arm. "Doves, tie those two up and bring them down to the dungeons. I will bring Prince Bennett to the potions office."

The birds swept down on Ophelia and Bananas.

I threw out an arm. "Leave them—"

And then the birds flew right through me.

I gathered myself from the darkness.

"Hey! Give that back!" Ophelia shot up her hand as she tried to pull her wand out of a dove's talons.

"Come along, Your Majesty," Goldilocks turned around. "Right downstairs."

I paused. "Will I be allowed to leave your office?"

"Stay out of the dungeons," she waggled her finger.

I didn't usually feel good about betraying one's hospitality, but this was different. I gave Ophelia one last look and followed Goldilocks.

—


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Timmy

"Perhaps Goldilocks was right when she called me a fat little cat," I wheezed as I _screeched_ further up the chimney. "I should not have eaten all those syrup-covered waffles at that diner." But Ophelia, Bananas, and Bennett needed me. And the only way to rescue them was if I climbed up this chimney to rejoin Felicia, and we could come up with a plan. "Urgh…almost there, just one more—whoops!" My boot slipped on the smooth metal chimney interior. "Okay," I dug my front claws in, "This is the last step." With a great _heave,_ I thrust myself up and out onto the roof.

"Timmy!" Felicia bent down and pulled me to my boots. "You got out? Are the others following you?"

"It is…just me," I panted, doubled over. "We must find another chimney and save our friends from Goldilocks's captivity. Do you have any ideas?"

"Has Goldilocks taken Bananas, Ophelia, and Bennett anywhere?" She gazed firmly down to me.

"I-I believe I heard that Bananas and Ophelia would be brought to the dungeons, and Bennett to the potions office," I straightened up.

"That helps things," she rubbed her round chin. "I may not be a princeologist like Ophelia, but I have a feeling Bennett will be getting himself out of wherever he's trapped." Her face tensed. "We need to worry about Bananas—he's not going to think about escaping. And if Ophelia's in another spell-proof cage, she'll need our help, too."

"We cannot go down there, obviously," I pointed down the chimney. "Where should we go?" I paced forward. "The third floor will likely be packed with Goldilocks's forces due to us dropping down there."

"Let's take one of those short chimneys to the first floor," Felicia pointed to a squat one on the lower roof. "If the third floor is swarming with cronies as you suspect it is, then the first floor is the place to go. Plus, it'd give us easy access to both the dungeon and the potions office; the dungeons are right below, and the office is on the second floor." She paused, eyes raised. "What if we split up?"

"Split up?" I gaped. "You cannot mean that, can you?"

"Come on," she leaned down and grasped her knees. "Don't you remember we're tougher than we look? Aren't you the bodyguard of a queen?"

"But what about you?" I held out my paw.

"My family knows about getting into a few fisticuffs," she chuckled. "I can take care of myself."

"I suppose it is settled, then," I sighed and marched down the roof towards the lower chimney, Felicia right behind. When the short, wide pipe lay ahead of us, I stretched out a foreleg to Felicia. "Ladies first." I would not be squashed under a large behind again.

"Thanks, Timmy," Felicia climbed into the chimney. "Here I _goooo!"_ She slid down the pipe, and with an unseen _thump,_ landed in a fireplace on the first floor.

I scrambled up after her and fell down the shaft. "Oof!" I _plopped_ down stomach-first upon Felicia's head.

"That was an easy landing for both of us," she lifted me off her hair. "Now," she peered out of the hearth, "Was this a good place to drop in?"

The arched door was shut, and we were the only ones inside.

"What is this place?" My eyes went from the desk to the many circular portraits of saccharine-looking fairytale characters. This was surely some sort of office.

The rather wide room around us was covered in pink floral wallpaper.

A large, magenta-cushioned chaise lay at the edge of the room, with a purple plush seat in front of it.

Next to the chaise was a white-painted wooden desk with a neat stack of parchment upon it.

Beside the stack of parchment was a small crystal ball upon a silver stand. Within the sphere was swirling, sparkling, periwinkle smoke.

"This room looks like it's for a shrink," Felicia stepped out of the hearth and walked behind the desk. "Yep," she lifted a sheet of parchment from the stack, _"An appointment to help one live happily-ever-after."_

"How long has this office been used?" I sneezed as I climbed out of the hearth onto a dusty lilac carpet.

"Bless you," Felicia giggled. "Not since the Fairy Godmother died, I think," she shook her head as her eyes traced the room again. Her eyes stopped on the parchment stack in front of her. "Maybe these appointment reports will come in handy."

"How?" I joined her at the desk.

"Didn't Ophelia say the Fairy Godmother had a picture of Hecate near her potions office?" Felicia rifled through the stack. "If the Fairy Godmother had portraits of witches, she might have witches as clients. These appointments all have addresses," she handed me a sheet.

 _"A checkup of the Muffin Man of Drury Lane,"_ I read aloud. "Are you saying these could help us find those witch settlements?"

"That's right," she grinned and pulled out sheets of parchment. "Appointment for Cinderella… _As long as it looks good, what's inside doesn't matter…_ wait, this one might help," she stopped at a sheet. "It says here that Hansel and Gretel came to the Fairy Godmother to report a complaint of abuse and attempted murder at the hands of a witch named Fraulein Beckerhaus, who lived in a gingerbread cottage in the center of Lake Forest."

"Lake Forest," I stroked my whiskers. "Duloc means 'of the lake,' does it not? Do you suppose this Fraulein Beckerhaus lived near the scene of Bennett's murder?"

"Well, we're definitely going to find what's left of that cottage," Felicia rolled up the parchment and stuffed it in her knapsack. "Any information about witches is good information. Now, let's free the others and get out of here."

Was the door locked? I headed straight for the door and twisted the knob.

It only rattled _._

"Here I go again," I shot out a claw and picked the lock.

The lock yielded to my claw with a _click._

"After you," I held open the door.

"Good idea," she stuck her head out into the hall beyond.

Compared to the luxurious pink office, the hall outside had simple stone floors of white square tiles.

"They must lead into that globe mosaic hall we broke into the first time," I pointed outward.

Then, there came the _flutter_ of wings and the _clink_ of armor.

Felicia yanked us back into the office and _slammed_ the door. We leaned our ears close to the keyhole.

"I'm still not sure it was a good idea to let Prince Bennett leave your little skit, Sir Kay," a voice permeated through the door. "He probably told that witch and her friends all about you."

That was true.

A _clicking_ of heels approached the keyhole. "Wonderful news!" Goldilocks clapped her hands.

"What is it?" Sir Kay's voice had a dull echo. "You didn't ruin things again?"

"That's right," she huffed.

I could just imagine her nose stiff in the air.

"Those troublemakers returned to the factory," her voice danced with excitement. "Probably thought we were too far on the road to head back soon. At least they were smart enough to drop through the chimney this time."

"Did they get away?" Sir Kay's voice sharpened.

"Not the ones who matter," Goldilocks's smirk was too easy to hear. "I have the witch in the dungeons, and the Prince in the potions office."

"Excuse me," he paused. "Repeat that second part again. Did you say you locked Prince Bennett in the potions office?"

"Why not?" Her shrug was almost audible. "Princes aren't as sharp as their swords."

"I beg to differ on that," his voice lowered. "Charming may have been a fop, but he did beat me in every duel. Goldilocks, we have to check on your royal guest. Leaving him with those spell books and that potion may not have been the best move."

"Just when I thought I did something right," Goldilocks grumbled.

"Oh, you did," he comforted. "You just didn't do enough." There was a _squeak_ as he straightened himself, and he clanked along, Goldilocks and the dove behind him.

After a moment of bated breath, Felicia pushed open the door by a crack. "They're gone," she whispered.

"Well, this is good news and bad news," I sighed as I stepped out into the hall. "Bennett will have company, but we will not be splitting up, _and_ we will only have to worry about doves, bears, and- _and a giant in the dungeons!"_ I threw up my paws. Forced to enter chambers that had to be devoted to the worst of evildoers? Our noblest supporter facing greater captivity? This could be hopeless! But no, Felicia was right. I firmed myself. "We will go rescue Ophelia and Bananas together," I marched ahead. "Once we have them, we can go up to the potions office and rescue Bennett!" Then, I halted. "Where are the dungeons?"

—


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Ophelia

I should've been used to strange things. I'd cast more spells and attempted more potions than I could remember. I'd summoned a ghost who'd died three hundred years ago. But why did he let himself be trapped to stay with me? Why did he strike me still in that moment? Which let those doves dive-bomb and disarm me. "I have no idea about things now," I turned to Bananas, who rolled over in his spell-proof cage.

Being in a spell-proof cage and without a wand was bad enough, but to make things worse, chains held the cage high off the floor. My broom was gone, and my neck was bare.

I leaned forward in my cage, _creaking_ it close to Bananas, and stuck an arm through. If I could touch his cage, that might be a start. My hand took the club end of his tail, which protruded from the bars. "We're sure in a jam, aren't we?" I stroked his tail.

Bananas gave a low whimper.

"I mean, what was Bennett thinking when he had himself be captured along with us?" No, I knew what he was thinking. He wanted to take care of us and be all courageous and stuff. I bet he planned to escape and use his knowledge of where we were to get us out of here. Was he trying to get himself out of the potions office this very minute? "To believe somebody would risk themselves to rescue us," I gave Bananas's tail a little tickle.

He gave a snorting chuckle, and smoke puffed from his nostrils.

An idea lit in me. If he could breathe fire, then…I tickled Bananas again, this time with more deliberation.

Flames poured from his snout with a _hee-hawing_ laugh, and his cage's lock melted away.

"That's it!" I pumped my fist. "Now— _whoa!"_ I jumped back as Bananas pushed himself up, guffawing, and a rush of fire hit the side of my cage. "Thanks, Bananas," I watched the side melt down into an opening. "Can you come out right here?" I beckoned him over. "Please?"

Bananas flapped out of his cage and in front of mine.

"I mean, to the hole you just made in my cage," I gestured him over to it.

He gave a small snort and flew in the direction of my finger.

"You've got it," I climbed out of my cage and onto his back. "Now, let's get Bennett out of the potions office."

Bananas gave a triumphant _honk_ and soared ahead, up and out of the dungeons.

How shocked would Bennett be when he found out we saved him instead?

We charged forward and burst through hot air.

"Ophelia! Bananas!" A happily familiar voice laughed behind us. "Slow down!"

I pulled Bananas's reins, and he _screeched_ to a halt in midair. I looked over my shoulder to see a mass of air turn ghostly blue and materialize into—"Bennett?"

Bananas turned his head, and _plopped_ right upon the floor.

"I discovered a couple abilities when I went to find you," a bit of blue rose to Bennett's cheeks.

"I could see that—I mean, I _couldn't_ see that," I stared him over, his invisibility fresh in my mind. "What else did you find out?"

"I can squeeze myself through tight spots," he raised his shoulders.

These powers would make up for him being unable to walk through walls. "You just keep getting better," I smiled. "On you being good," my face tensed, "You didn't have to get yourself locked up to save us."

"I wanted to make sure you'd be all right," he held out his hand.

Why was he just holding it out like that? "What are you doing?" I cocked my head.

"I'm offering a hand to help you off Bananas," he looked like it was obvious. "You take it, then I bring my arm around you, and I lift you off the saddle and down to the ground."

"But you'll go right through me," I blinked.

"Oh," he withdrew his hand.

"But thanks anyway," I slipped off Bananas. "For all of it. You don't mind that I got myself out of the dungeons, do you?"

"Better being beaten to it than saving people who can save themselves," he shrugged.

A soft _clicking_ of heels and low, _thumping_ footsteps came from a corridor.

"Thank goodness you have those lock-picking claws," Felicia headed into view, Timmy a pace behind.

"Believe me, I appreciate them every day," Timmy waggled them.

Bananas's ears perked up, and he bounded over to Felicia.

"Bananas!" She scratched his ears. "I guess we didn't need to think up that crazy rescue plan after all," she stared over us with a smile. "How'd you get out?"

"The cages may be spell-proof, but they're not dragon fire-proof," I patted Bananas's tail. Well, dragons were the second most powerful source of magic, the only thing other than love that could override potent spells. "Have you guys found my broom and wand? Goldilocks went off with them."

"We should have looked out for your things while we were trying to find the dungeons," Timmy clapped a paw to his face.

"Do you think they could be around the potions office?" Felicia lifted her eyes. "It'd make sense to put magic stuff with other magic stuff."

"I didn't see a broom and wand there," Bennett shook his head. "But there could be books and potions there that could help our missions."

"No witch settlement information there," I raised my hand. "I checked the first time we broke into the factory—that was before I summoned you."

"But Timmy and I may have found a lead in the Fairy Godmother's psychiatrist office," Felicia drew a scroll of parchment from her knapsack. "It's a complaint from Hansel and Gretel about a witch who lived in the center of Lake Forest."

"Lake Forest?" Bennett's spectral eyes widened. "That's where the Huntsman shot me," he put a hand to his shoulder.

"And that's where Crone's Nest is," I added. "If we go there, we can check out the scene of the crime and show you to my witch teachers. But let's find my stuff first, and we'll see if we missed anything here," I strode forward. "Watching out for Goldilocks and her friends, of course."

"Hold on," Timmy thrust out his paw. "We cannot go straight to the potions office. Goldilocks is going there with Sir Kay to try to check on Bennett."

"Good thing I've only seen a bit of the first floor," I grinned. "Now, where were the stairs again?"

"This factory has the basic castle layout," Bennett flew forward. "Follow me."

—


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Goldilocks

"I still cannot understand why Prince Bennett would give himself to you so that he could be with those undesirables," Sir Kay _clanked_ beside me.

"At least we have him," I held up a hand.

"Let's not look on the bright side just yet, Goldilocks," his voice lowered. "If Prince Bennett did this act of nobility for those troublemakers, he must care for them." He pushed past the red curtain in front of the office. "Your Majesty?"

I peered over his epaulet into an empty room. "Cold porridge," I gritted my teeth. First Prince Bennett forked himself over to me for those troublemakers, now he'd escaped to rescue them?

"This is what I tried to warn you about," He tutted under his breath.

Now I understood why the Fairy Godmother knocked him out for eternity. "Why can't he just care only for himself?" I gripped a fist by my side. "Why does he have to be all 'these people have helped me, I have to be all kind and heroic and give myself up to rescue them?'" I deepened my voice in a blubbering imitation.

"If I wasn't told damsels like you valued such qualities," Sir Kay nodded, "I would have thought it was insane."

"Yes," I raised my head. _"What?"_ I jerked up. "What do you mean, damsels like me value such qualities?"

"Haven't I heard you mention at least once how adorable Prince Bennett is?"

"He just _looks_ adorable!" Heat flared to my face. "And that was before he put that ogress, cat, and dragon mutant over me! And _especially_ that witch!"

"So, you _do_ have more green in your eyes?" His raised eyebrow was audible.

"Just find my prince!" I socked Sir Kay in the solar plexus. "Ouch," I rubbed my red knuckles.

"I'll take that as a yes, then!" He just chortled, raised a hand, and _clanked_ off.

"Grrrr…" I grasped my black knots of hair. Why did Sir Kay think my frustration around Prince Bennett was some kind of a joke? I scanned all the shelves of spell books and brightly colored potions. If only I had witch magic with the green skin and warty nose. Why not see for sure? Ophelia did tell me this potion would only last until midnight, then I'd be back to my normal self again. My blonde ringlets and beauty would be back, but any magic I might have now would be gone. Ophelia used a wand to cast spells—did she need a wand to make potions? Oh, how the heck did witches even work? I never should've taken Ophelia's bargain! If I could do magic because of this potion, what should I do? Something to track down Prince Bennett, for sure. My eyes lifted back up to the bookshelves. Was there anything about astral projections? What about ghosts and spirits in general? What exactly should I look for? My eyes drooped down to the emerald heart around my neck. Why had Ophelia stolen it? Had she just taken it because it was fancy? "I wonder if I can use this necklace to bring Prince Bennett here," I sighed to myself.

Then, a warm, bright blue glow rose from the jewel, and swirled out in ghostly blue smoke that shaped and tapered into Prince Bennett.

His spectral eyes darted around, then narrowed in on me. _"You?_ Where's Ophelia? How did you bring me here?"

This was incredible! "Your witch's 'Ugly-Ever-After Potion' gave me some of her powers," I put a hand to my amulet. "Now I can summon you all by myself!" And if I could control the amulet…I could brew my own Happily-Ever-After Potion! Now that I had Bennett under my control, all I needed to do was brew a new batch of _real_ Happily-Ever-After Potion, use his hair to improve my former good looks, then I could live happily-ever-after!

Now, how did Ophelia brew that potion? My eyes lifted back to the shelves. Which book had she used? It was the big black one on the highest shelf, wasn't it? What was it called?

"Prince Bennett," I batted my wide eyes, "Would you be a dear and bring down that large black spell book on the highest shelf? This office wasn't built for people who can't fly."

"Is that Ophelia's broomstick over there?" Bennett pointed to a broom in the far corner.

Was that cheek? Those dark creatures must have rubbed their rudeness off on him. "I'm afraid it'll be difficult to fly a broomstick in this dress," I splayed out my layered petticoats. "And besides, helping a lady's the refined thing to do."

Bennett gritted his teeth and flew up to the shelf a few inches below the ceiling. He reached out for the black book, but as he did so, his hand disintegrated into a puff of blue smoke. He jerked his arm back, and his hand gathered back into shape. "I'm afraid ghosts can't hold solid objects," he called down.

To believe this. "Fine," I rolled my eyes, grabbed the broomstick, and flew up myself. Why did Bennett have such a problem with me? It was because of the ugly green face, wasn't it? Even that ogress looked better than me right now. "Look," I pulled the book from the shelf, "I know you're not happy with me, but in a few hours, Ophelia's Ugly-Ever-After spell on me will be broken, and I will be much more beautiful." I flew down, laid the book upon the desk, and with a quick glance at the table of contents, flipped to the proper page. I scanned the list of ingredients. Faith? Trust? Pixie dust? Prince hair? Some cauldron-heating and wand-stirring? This would be easy. But first, to get a wand. My eyes first went to a glitter-covered quill cup, where Ophelia's gnarled wand looked especially uncouth among the bright purple feathers. Then, I turned to the wall behind me, where the Fairy Godmother's star-tipped wand hung in a shut glass case. Ophelia's wand might be stuck doing nasty spells like creating the Ugly-Ever-After Potion, but the Fairy Godmother's wand had a long history of casting good magic. I hurried over to the case, threw its lid open, and pulled the wand from its clamp.

Its glass star glowed with purple light as it reacted to my magic.

Now, to begin. I scurried back over to the book. _"Fill cauldron with water and set fire under it to bring water to a medium boil,"_ I read aloud. I pointed the wand into the cauldron. "Water!"

A thick jet of water sprayed out of the wand as if it was a garden hose.

"Whoa!" The wand nearly fell from my hand. "That-that's enough water!" I shouted as the cauldron was almost overfull. I pointed the wand beneath the cauldron. "A small fire, please."

A thin beam of flame shot from the wand and ignited the grate under the cauldron.

As the water began to warm, I returned to the list of ingredients. "I need a teaspoon of faith, a cup of trust, a pinch of pixie dust, and a lock of your hair, of course," I turned to Bennett. My eyes lifted to the shelves. I should be able to summon all those bottles and measuring tools with just a flick of a wand! "Bring me the measuring tools," I waved my wand in a circle.

The drawer under the cauldron slid open, slamming me in the solar plexus.

As I doubled back with a _gasp,_ cups, spoons, and measuring tape flew out of the drawer and landed around the cauldron.

"Just a cup and teaspoon," I put them aside, dropped the rest back in the drawer, and _slammed_ it shut. "Now," I raised my head to the shelves, "Bring me one jar of faith, one of trust, one of pixie dust, and one jar with hair from Prince Bennett."

Three jars flew from their shelves and floated down in front of me. All half-full at least, but—

"No prince hair?" I drew in my head. "Where is the jar labeled 'prince hair?'" I shook my wand.

An empty glass jar floated down. _Prince Hair_ was right on its label.

"Cold porridge!" I hissed as I seized the jar. "What did Ophelia do with your hair?!" I spun around to Bennett and thrust the jar in his face.

"She used it to summon me," he floated back.

The hair was wasted on summoning him? Why did that feel worse than her just throwing it out and using it for evil spells? Thanks to her, I had Bennett, but not the key to the Happily-Ever-After Potion! But I'd overheard Ophelia say the prince hair didn't have to come in right after the rest of the potion was brewed. I could work with these ingredients, then go to Tempest Tower and pluck a hair from the Sleeping Bennett!

"Go back inside my amulet, Bennett," I waved him off. "I can do this myself, and I don't need any distractions."

"You need to say, 'Bennett, you may now return to the beyond,'" he forced the proper quality of his voice as he raised a finger.

Oh, great. Who knew princes were this difficult? "You may now return to the beyond!" I half-shouted.

Bennett shut his eyes, dissolved back into blue smoke, and soared into the emerald heart around my neck.

Why did that prince have to give me such a hard time? But I had to get serious now. It was time to make myself pretty.

—


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Ophelia

"He didn't go too far ahead," my heartbeat rose to an erratic staccato as my eyes darted across a long corridor. Where did Bennett go? He'd been in front of us, but when he led the way around a corner, he was gone when we followed him!

"Does anyone have any idea what happened?" Felicia threw up a hand.

That's what I wanted to ask, too. My eyes went down to my bare neck.

The memory of Goldilocks putting the amulet on her neck seared back into my mind. Black cat hairballs.

"I know," I gritted my teeth. "Goldilocks used my amulet to summon Bennett." And without my amulet, how could I get him back?

"You mean," Timmy's eyes widened, "Bennett is once again a prisoner of Goldilocks? This cannot be allowed!" He drew his sword.

Heat flared in me in agreement. But…an idea rose in me. I had to get Bennett back, that was for sure. But did I need to get the amulet back with him? His sword was in the armory. If I made another totem using it, I'd have Bennett without stealing the amulet from Goldilocks. And if Bennett kept a link to Goldilocks, I could keep an eye on her.

"Let's head back to the armory," I turned the group down a corner.

"We're really gonna gather weapons?" Felicia's face tensed.

"Just Bennett's sword," I raised a finger. Now that I nailed the spirit-summoning potion, I could do it again. After all, I hadn't burned out the ingredients in my many failed attempts. And maybe my potion would work better the second time around. "It's going to replace the amulet."

"You mean, you will turn it into a-a totem?" Timmy raised his eyes. "But that will still leave the amulet in the hands of Goldilocks!"

"That's the point," I grinned. "Bennett is going to be our spy on the Fairy Godmother's followers."

"Oh, you are clever," Timmy pointed a claw at me.

"Thanks," I shrugged with a smile.

We turned corners and darted up flights of stairs until the heavy red door of the armory stood in front of us.

Felicia seized the handle and shoved the door in.

 _Splat!_

"What was that?" She stepped in and peered around the door to see a mash of flattened white feathers.

I looked up to see a flock of doves.

"The intruders?" One dove's pink-rimmed eyes widened. "And their friends?" His eyes narrowed. _"Seize them!"_ He swept his wing forward, and the flock surged towards us.

"Bananas, give me barbecued chicken!" I threw out my arm.

"Hrrmm?" Bananas turned a puzzled eye to me.

 _This_ is when he had to be stupid? _"Shoot fire at the birds!"_

"Hrrmm!" His eyes brightened. He turned back to the charging flock, and with a blast of purple flames, he sent the doves to the ground, all with only stubble for feathers.

The doves clapped their bare wings over their groins and darted off between Bananas's legs. "We-we won't get in the way of you again, great creature," the leader of the doves scurried away with his comrades right behind. "Please don't eat us!"

"Now that's what I call roasted poultry," I watched the fleeing pink-skinned behinds of the birds.

"Ophelia," Felicia drew my eyes to her own wide blue ones. "You got Bananas to harness his firepower?"

"I tickled him to make him burn the magic locks on our cages," I nodded.

"Oh, your mom's going to be so proud of you!" Felicia squeezed Bananas. "You really are the most dragon-like out of the litter." She raised her head. "But let's get this job done here, shall we? What sword are we looking for?" Her eyes scanned rows and rows of blades.

"We need the sword with the curling silver cross hilt," I pointed to the small, thin blade three rows up. "The one with emeralds in it." If I had my wand and broomstick, getting it would be so easy.

Timmy's eyes dropped at the look of my own, then firmed. "Allow me to get it," he shot out his claws, cartwheeled over to the wall, and scrambled up it, using the many hilts and axe heads as climbing knobs. Once he reached the third row, he tugged the sword out of its loop with a grunt. "I—am—glad Bennett was too small for a large blade—whoops!"

The sword spun out of his hand and clattered down upon the floor.

"I am okay!" Timmy waved his paw and scampered down.

"And you got the sword down," I hurried over to the blade and stuck in in my belt. I could've pleased Baba Yaga with one little amulet, but now that I had this sword? She was gonna be impressed! "Now, let's head over to the potions room to see if Goldilocks is still there," I turned around. And brew a new ghost-summoning potion.

"You want us to risk another run-in with her?" Timmy hurried a step behind me.

"If Goldilocks knows how to use my amulet, she got a little magic from me," my eyes trailed down to him. "And now that she has magic, she'll want to brew the Happily-Ever-After Potion the right way."

"Yes…" Timmy nodded, "But is that not _precisely_ the reason we should stay out of the potions office?"

"Well," a grin spread across my face, "I used the last of Bennett's hair for my first summoning potion, just to help it work. And no prince hair means no Happily-Ever-After Potion."

"Goldilocks will have to leave the office to find Bennett's corpse and restock the hair," Timmy's eyes widened.

 _"Exactly,"_ I pointed to him.

"Should we hurry?" Felicia quickened her footsteps.

"Let's keep this pace," I held up my hand. "Goldilocks is probably still brewing the other ingredients, and we don't want to make too much noise." Taking our time would give Goldilocks time to leave the factory.

—


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Goldilocks

I could've completed that Happily-Ever-After Potion in one room, in one sitting. But no! I had to fly my dove-driven coach to that storm-guarded tower on an island in the middle of nowhere to be a sort of royal barber for the physical half of Bennett! And why? That. Blasted. Ophelia! And why couldn't she have just been a problem now? Why did she have to ruin the work of the Fairy Godmother since the day she was born? That day was too clear to me, especially as it all began where I was headed. It was just before those two ogres got her killed, and her death led to her factory falling into disarray. At ten years old, I stood at the top of Tempest Tower with the Fairy Godmother, at the side of Prince Bennett's final bed. I bobbed down and gave Bennett's forehead a small kiss.

But nothing happened.

"Why did you make him sleep forever?" I lifted my head with low eyes. "Couldn't you have just used a love potion to stick him with another princess?" It wouldn't have meant being with me, but at least it would be living. I turned to the Fairy Godmother in her sparkly pink dress.

"Love potions aren't as effective as advertised," the Fairy Godmother twirled her wand. "I already tried a love potion on Bennett before I poisoned him, but his princely powers diluted it to water. Besides, knights are much more obedient than he ever was in all his lifetimes."

"Do you feel sorry for him?" He seemed so big, but he was only seven years older than I was.

"Oh, no," The Fairy Godmother's eyes widened behind her pink spectacles, and she put a pincushion-like hand to the magenta rose upon her ample bosom. "What happened to him was all his own fault. He asked for this by turning down happily-ever-after to seek some silly idea of true love. Besides, he'll be young and handsome forever. And while my son lacks his power, he's far better in other ways. He knows what's important; beauty, riches, seeking power in the monarchy. And the name Prince Charming sounds much better than that boring name Bennett." She stopped straight, her eyes wide open. "Are you crying, Goldie?"

"No," I walked over to her, arm outstretched. "What's wrong?"

"I sense tears," The Fairy Godmother's eyes squinted shut. "A princess has been born," her eyes opened, and a smile came to her face. Then, her smile dropped. "But who is she?" Her eyes shut again. "She's royal by marriage. Consorts," her lip curled. "Gold-diggers only there to keep the bloodline healthy." Her face froze. "Her mother's normal, but those crazy black curls of hers, her hooked nose." The Fairy Godmother's eyes opened, then went to the bed. "No," her stout body trembled. "This can't be."

"What's going on?" I took the Fairy Godmother's shoulder.

"I have sensed the birth of a witch," the Fairy Godmother turned to me, her face pale. "A witch who could become a princess!" The Fairy Godmother threw up her hands. "For whatever reason, someone up there wants to challenge things. To challenge everything."

"What do you mean, 'challenge everything?'" I looked up at her. "You mean, destroy your happily-ever-after?"

"Yes," her teeth gritted.

"But that would mean waking him up, right?" I pointed at Bennett. "Could he and that witch be together?"

"I have no idea, and I hope you're wrong," the Fairy Godmother put a hand to her brow, "But it surely involves magic." She looked back down at Bennett.

"What sort of magic?" I turned to her. "There are fairytales about people who visit each other in dreams."

"Oh, that's cute," she waved her hand. "But witches have a darker spell for soul communication. An…occult ritual where they summon spirits from the astral plane. Someday, unless I don't stop her, that witch will find something of Bennett's and use it in a spell to bring back his astral projection."

"What's an astral projection?" I cocked my head.

"That's the fancy term for living ghost," she gave a smart little smile. "Oh, all of this could have been prevented had I never let his father marry that tart of a brunette," her face fell. "Had I seen the trouble coming from those two…" She rolled her eyes. "And to this day, no one in the dynasty has settled for a pretty blonde."

"Maybe they just like ladies who are different." Different being the nice word to use, of course.

"Too different," she pushed up her spectacles. "I have to see if my senses are wrong. Oh, I hope they are," she shook her head. "And if they're not," her eyes turned to icicles, "I'll track down that baby witch and eliminate her." She stood straight again. "Ugh!" she grasped her head and shut her eyes. "I'm sensing that baby again. Now," her eyes opened, "I can hear her name. Ophelia."

The lurch of the coach in the eternal gale jolted me from my memories.

"Almost there," Fred flapped up to the coach window. "The nasty turbulence's no good on little wings," he panted and landed on the window ledge. "Thank goodness the Fairy Godmother's protective charms on the coach keep the sea monsters away."

The other doves dragged us to the foot of the tower.

I bent low against the rain as I exited the coach and hurried into the tower, Fred fluttering behind me. I strode up the rickety stairs, skirts in hands, and threw open the ornate cherry door.

A perfectly clean, elegant bedroom tiled in marble lay in front of me. It would be just right if its four-poster bed wasn't its only piece of furniture.

Bennett's rosy body lay in front of me. After getting to know his spirit, him being locked up here forever didn't seem like such a bad thing anymore.

"How is he?" Fred perched upon my shoulder.

I put a hand upon Bennett's chest, feeling it rise and fall, and the soft _thump-thump_ of his heartbeat. "He's alive." The Fairy Godmother was right about Ophelia summoning his astral projection. And now, for just a few minutes more, I could summon his spirit, too. But beauty was more important than magic. After all the aggravation Bennett's spirit had given me, what I was going to do now was the smallest form of revenge. I drew out a small bottle from my purse, which was full of sparkling, golden liquid. I _popped_ out the cork, then reached down and plucked a hair from Bennett's long, parted bangs. I dropped the hair into the potion.

A flash of periwinkle light burst from the bottle, and cloudy steam rose in the form of a heart topped by a crown.

"Now _this_ is the Happily-Ever-After Potion," my eyes gleamed at the glittering purple-blue liquid. And brewed at just the right time; midnight approached. I brought the bottle to my lips and gulped the potion down. Not only did it look much better than the Ugly-Ever-After Potion, it didn't taste like vomit, either. Instead, it had a sweet but savory quality.

As I lowered the empty bottle from my mouth, glowing pink sparkles showered through the window and swirled around me. "Yes! _Yes!"_ I threw back my head, shutting my eyes in the warm, vivid light.Midnight! Instant magical action!

The sparkles lifted me an inch from the floor, then lowered me down and faded.

I opened my eyes. Was I a beautiful princess now?

My hands, once green, gnarled, and wart-covered, were smooth-skinned and fair again. Were they softer than before?

The hair on my arms remained dark, perhaps even thicker, and there was a hint of a muscle under my puffed sleeve.

My upper bodice sagged due to a now-flat chest.

The snarled black bush Ophelia gave me was now a silky cascade of brown hair, like Bennett's. And like Bennett's hair, stray stands stuck out in a slightly messy but natural look. Well, maybe being a brunette would make me seem more mature. And my face had become gorgeous, hadn't it?

I glanced around the room. If only there was a mirror in this place. "What do you think?" I turned to the doves.

One dove clamped his wings over his beak, shaking.

Fred's eyes were wide, but tense. "Uh…"

"Should we tell her?" Another dove hissed to his fellow, who had a large grin spread across his beak.

"What?" My eyes sharpened. "How do I look? Go on, say it!" Did something go wrong with the potion?

The grinning dove stepped forward and cleared his throat. _"¡Hola, Frida Kahlo!"_

It was like a dam had burst. All the doves except Fred burst into guffaws.

"Ha! Ha! Frida Kahlo! Good one!"

"Somebody give her a razor!"

"Oh no," Fred shook his head in his wing.

"What? What's going on here?" I jerked around.

Fred took a deep breath. "Goldilocks, your, um, upper lip…"

I lifted a finger to it, and felt short, but distinct, fuzzy hairs. Cold porridge. This couldn't be happening. _This couldn't be happening._ "The Happily-Ever-After Potion was supposed to turn me into a princess! Not a-a prince!" Would I have to shave my face in a few years? How could I get the potion wrong?

"I know this has to be a real drag for you, Goldilocks," Fred lowered his head.

All the other doves wheezed and clutched their gizzards with laughter.

 _"This—isn't—FUNNY!"_ I screamed.

My voice bounced around the spacious room.

My eyes leapt to the bed, but Bennett lay still. Why did I even think that could wake him?

I turned back down to the doves.

"All right," a dove gasped, "We get it." He paused. "Frida Kahlo."

That was _it!_ I bent down and socked the dove under his beak.

The dove slid back and slumped against one leg of Bennett's bed. "Whoa," he shook his head clear.

He said it. Those muscles on my biceps were actually _for_ something? And I could use them to punch doves? What else could I do with them? I had to ask Bennett how he built them. But I couldn't summon him here; that would show him he was alive. I'd have to summon him in the coach.

Then, the emerald around my neck grew warm and began to glow blue. Translucent smoke poured out of it and formed into Bennett.

—


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Bennett

An unfamiliar chamber lay around me again. It was a strange blend of elegance and sparseness, with a floor of bare marble tiles and blue wallpaper swirled with subtle silver designs. A tall, thin arched window framed in silver was inset in one wall. Daggers of rain pounded the glass and fractured cracks of lightning flashed outside, but no sound from the storm permeated into the room. Was I still in the factory? In a new part that I'd never seen before?

My eyes went to the tallest figure before me. If she hadn't been wearing a floral yellow dress with a frilly, overlarge hoop skirt, she would have been unrecognizable. Goldilocks? _Again?_

Ophelia's wild black mane was gone from her head, and my untidy brown waves spread down in its place. But while mine just brushed down my neck, Goldilocks's hair went down to her bosom. Her bodice sagged due to a now flat chest, and her arms were hairy and well-built. But it was her face that caught most of my attention. Her once-green skin had become the fair complexion I'd had in life. Her jaw was square and chiseled. And right below her long, sharp nose was a faint but distinct mustache.

She caught my eyes stopping at it immediately. "If you say _Frida Kahlo…"_ she pointed a too-familiar sturdy finger at me.

"Who's that?" I floated back. A bearded lady?

"Don't ask," Goldilocks gritted her teeth as doves at her feet snickered.

One look at her face told me she was a fuse ready to explode. If I set off the bomb, the shrapnel might hurt Ophelia and the others. Goldilocks might have gotten a few of my powers the same way she acquired some of Ophelia's magic. It wouldn't be wise to provoke my former abilities.

"I don't like you, but I know this isn't the time to mock you," I held up my hand.

"Thank you," Goldilocks crossed her arms with a huff.

"At least you got the right hair for the potion," I shrugged.

"I know," she gripped her handsome face. "But why did your hair do this to me? This isn't what the real Happily-Ever-After Potion is supposed to do."

"Did you brew the potion yourself?" I traced over her again. Maybe this was another prank from Ophelia. Or maybe Goldilocks brewed the potion wrong. Ophelia the born and raised witch cast the ghost-summoning charm incorrectly. Considering her mistake, it was easy to imagine a temporary and artificial witch like Goldilocks making a blunder with a potion.

"Yes," she paused, and slapped herself across the face.

"But this is temporary, isn't it?" I traced over her.

"It's not quick, though," she rubbed her high forehead. "At least it'll be better being you than your witch. I mean, where did you get _these?"_ She flexed her bicep.

"Fencing," I raised my shoulders. And swimming in the lake.

"If only I had all of your abilities," Goldilocks scanned me down, then her eyes drifted through me and stopped.

Something was behind me, to my left. What was it? I _swished_ around, and a blue-curtained four poster bed stood in front of me. Then everything halted as soon as I saw who lay upon the white satin mattress.

A young man lay upon the bed, half-draped by a cover of cobalt velvet, his hands over the long stem of a white lily.

I jerked back. Was he dead? I edged forward in the air, my hands and face tight. I stared down at his chest and watched it slowly rise and fall.

His closed eyelids fluttered.

I breathed out a sigh. Only asleep. But the way he was just lying there holding a flower; I knew that position. This fellow was under a sleeping curse. Who was he? What had happened to him? It was like seeing Prince Charming's portrait, the same confusion of familiarity, but not quite recognition. He wore my favorite powder blue doublet, and his chest was more slender than broad, the way mine was. His waves of brown hair spread across the pillow were the same as mine, only well-combed, as if for a grand ball. I ran my hand down my smooth jawline, feeling a soft curve like the one I saw before me. His face was like those I'd seen in portraits— _my_ portraits. Charming's face had been too square, too sharp. But this young man's features were exact. My phantom breaths quickened. No. This youth could be like Charming, couldn't he? Some sort of impostor in my garments? I couldn't possibly be alive.

I held out my hand over his. They had to be different. But my translucent hand matched the size and shape of the flesh perfectly, right down to the small moles. I yanked my hand back, my eyes jumped over him.

"Is this…me?" The words fell out of my spirit's throat. Was I actually floating and translucent? Was this all a dream?

"Quite the experience seeing double, isn't it?" Goldilocks stepped beside me, her eyes drifting between the form I stared through and the form I stared at.

This was real? I was…both? Everything collided into place. The "beyond" I dwelled in was warm darkness. The firmness I sensed was my flesh. I hadn't been reborn because I'd never died. When the Huntsman's arrow pierced me, I truly did fall asleep.

"The Fairy Godmother put me under a spell," I stared over myself. "So I'd never take revenge on her." She'd used my state to create at least one impostor.

"Aren't you the smart prince," Goldilocks shook her finger.

I bent down over myself. "Bennett, wake up," I gripped my hands, tried to grip my solid shoulders. "I have to be myself again. _Please."_ Everything in my spirit tightened. But nothing moved except my chest and eyelids.

The arrow was out of my shoulder; it was too large to have been left in my wound. As the poisoned weapon was gone, there was only one thing that could wake me. This had to have been the Fairy Godmother's plan, imprisoning my body with true love's kiss as my only hope. She knew that I hadn't gotten close enough to anyone to be rescued. She told everyone that a prince would never fall under a sleeping curse.

What could I do now? I bent down, touched my airy lips to my solid hand. But when I lifted my head, nothing had changed. My heart beat faster, my neck caught in a cold grip. If I couldn't revive myself, who could? I stared down at myself, my eyes jumped back to Goldilocks—and her necklace, the totem that had returned my soul to the conscious world. Ophelia. She'd helped me enter this new world. She wasn't as bad as she thought she was. She liked my help, but she didn't rely on it. When she saw me, she saw beyond my beauty and power. No, this was insane. Princes and witches could never get together. Still, I knew firsthand that there was a first time for everything. How would Ophelia take this when I told her? This was as worse as it could get.

"The Fairy Godmother didn't think Ophelia would summon my spirit, though," I lifted my eyes to Goldilocks's face.

"Actually, she did," her hand stopped. "She…thought of everything," her voice quickened as her eyes turned away from me.

"What do you mean?" I drew closer.

"Well, she knew your Ophelia would cause problems," she snapped.

The Fairy Godmother knew Ophelia could save me? Did she have foresight? Was there some sort of prophecy? "Did the Fairy Godmother warn you about Ophelia?" Was that the true reason why Goldilocks had locked up Ophelia and the others in the first place?

"She may have," Goldilocks raised her eyes.

Seeing what had happened, it seemed her attempt to stop Ophelia had only brought what she'd tried to avoid. All that was left was for Ophelia to revive me, and her plans would completely backfire. If Ophelia _could_ revive me, that is.

—


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Ophelia

Thank goodness Goldilocks left my wand in the quill cup. Even the hardest potions were easier the second time around. After three attempts exploded, the new totem was ready. I drew my wand, laid down the sword, and marked where the center of my ritual would be. I painted a circle around the sword with the potion, then poured out more potion into the triangles of a pentagram around it. "Holle, Hecate," I stepped back and waved my wand over the pentagram. "Unite this object with its owner. Reach into the beyond and bring their spirit to me."

For a moment, all was quiet. But how could I get the second try wrong? Then, a faint breeze from out of nowhere hissed above us, the way it had in the clearing. The wind rose to a roar in our ears, and shook the books and bottles upon the shelves. Light shot up from the circle and pentagram I'd painted on the floor. The sword glowed and vibrated, clattering upon the floor. Now this was what I was talking about. The sapphire in the hilt of the sword glowed a warm, ghostly blue, and smoke blasted out of it with a high _screech._ The smoke formed a tall, sturdy column that tapered into Bennett's familiar shape.

He gasped and panted, eyes wide. "Ophelia," he clutched his neckline. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I waved my hand with a smile. "Goldilocks didn't give you too much trouble, did she?"

"No," he shook his head and managed a faint chuckle. "How did you get my necklace back?"

"I didn't," I bent down and picked up his sword. "I created a replacement totem. Now you can travel between me and Goldilocks, seeing what both of us are doing."

"I'm going to be a…spy?" Bennett's spectral eyes traced down the blade.

"That sounds right," I raised my shoulders.

"Listen," his face tightened, and his breaths quickened again. "There's something I have to tell you. When I went with Goldilocks, I-I found my body."

Felicia clapped a hand to her mouth.

"You did?" I dropped the sword to the floor with a _clang._ "How preserved was it?"

Bennett inhaled deeply. "I'm alive."

Everything seemed to stop and go blank. Bennett was alive? How? He'd been gone for three hundred years. Unless… Everything clicked in. The poison, Bennett's solidity and inability to possess as a "ghost." Baba Yaga's specter pop quiz. _Astral projections are souls of the living who are separated from their bodies by magic._

"Now wait just a _minuto!"_ Timmy broke through the pause with a wave of his épée. "Are you saying you have become some kind of revenant? Because if there is one thing I fear besides harm coming to my family, it is the physical undead."

"I'm not a revenant," Bennett held up his hands. "I'm asleep."

I knew it. Well, if I had to redo the practicum, at least I knew the drill, and I had all the ingredients on hand to do it a third time. But this time, I'd make sure to use something that had nothing to do with the royal family of Duloc.

Timmy paused and cocked his head. "You seem awake to me."

"He means he's an astral projection," I stepped up. "A living ghost."

"So that's what I am," Bennett drew in his hand.

"But that is an—oxymoron, is it not?" Timmy tapped his claws. "How can you be alive and be a ghost?"

"Have you heard of out of body experiences?" I rubbed my chin.

"Hmm… _sí,"_ he raised a front toe.

"That's astral projecting," I pointed to him. "It's when a soul leaves its body, but still retains its connection."

"Which makes the person alive, but with a spirit like a ghost," Timmy stroked his whiskers. "Wait," his eyes turned to Bennett, "If your body is asleep…are you dreaming?"

"Yes," he gave a firm nod.

"I think I understand now!" Timmy's eyes focused.

"Are spirits like me—normal?" Bennett turned to me and put a hand to his chest.

"When it comes to necromancy practicums, yep," I nodded. "Because their ties to life makes it easy for them to return to the regular plane. But astral projections usually aren't visible like regular ghosts; they can only be seen with magic. Like the ritual I performed to bring you here," I lifted the sword from the ground.

"Did you ever suspect I was alive?" He traced over my stable expression.

"A little," my face tensed. "You being gone for three hundred years threw me off."

"I can see why," he gazed through his feet. "Ophelia," he lifted firm eyes, "I-I know this will be hard to swallow." He took a deep breath. "I need your help."

"You don't have to be embarrassed about that anymore," I held up my hand. "All I need to do is pull that arrow out of your shoulder, right?" It'd be a bit gory, and it'd free Bennett and let me get a new ghost.

"That's the problem," blue flushed into his cheeks. "The arrow's gone."

Everything screeched to a halt. If the arrow was gone, that meant… "Oh great," I clutched my hair. He wanted me to kiss him? How would that work?

"I was just thinking, since we've had this time together and you see who I really am—"

"I know, all right?" The heat exploded out of me. Black cat hairballs. Now I'd done it.

Timmy, Felicia, and Bananas all had their eyes on me.

I couldn't get out of this now. My eyes turned back to Bennett. "You too," I breathed out.

"Do you…want to do it?" He held out his hand.

"Right here?" I stepped forward. I'd have to kick the others out first.

"It won't work like that," his eyes lowered.

If I couldn't kiss his spirit… "I have to find you, don't I?" Commit myself to poking my hooked nose in his perfect cheekbone with questionable consent. That sure made things better.

"I'm probably locked up somewhere in the factory, but I'm not sure," he scanned the office.

"The Huntsman got you in Lake Forest, 700 miles away," I chewed over what I knew. The Huntsman wasn't a magical creature, so he couldn't teleport. "I don't think you're in here. He'd have to drag you all this way, and you'd be way too conspicuous, even in that outfit," I waved a hand down Bennett's tunic and trousers. People didn't lug unconscious young men everywhere. "You're probably somewhere near Lake Forest in Duloc," I started to pace. "Were you in a crypt?"

"In a bedroom, but not the one I had in my castle," he pulled me back to him. "Knowing the Fairy Godmother's habits, being locked up in a tower seems most likely. We just have to find it, then you can revive me."

"Wait," I held out my arm. "You want me— _me—_ to discover the tower where you're locked up and kiss you?"

"Yes," he nodded, his face straight.

"You do realize I'm not you, right?" I waved my finger between us.

"I'm not the antidote to a sleeping curse," his frame tightened.

"I know that," I pointed up to my hat. "I just never thought I'd do something that's been your specialty."

"Well, our whole adventure's changed everything," Bennett arced his hand out to all of us.

"You can say that again," I chuckled.

"Do you want to do this?" He gazed at me. "Find my tower and wake me?"

"It's what we have to do," I lifted my head. First I had to travel with an ogre, a dronkey, and a talking cat. Then I broke into the Fairy Godmother's factory twice. I always had to do something crazy, didn't I? "I'm in."

A bright smile spread across Bennett's face. "Thank you."

This would either work, or it wouldn't. How bad could it be? "Come on," I turned around, "Let's get out of here before Goldilocks comes back."

But warm air touched my shoulder. "Wait," Bennett stopped me. "What's this?" He stared at the picture of the Fairy Godmother.

"It's a picture of the lady who got us all into this mess," I shrugged. "Is there something odd about it?" I noticed the look in his eyes.

"Her eyes are brown," he pointed to them. "The Fairy Godmother I knew had blue eyes."

Uh oh. A Fairy Godmother with different eye colors?

"There's even more that's not right," Bennett shook his head. "The parting of her hair is different, the way it curls is different."

"Hold on," the same realization came to Felicia's eyes. "Doesn't that mean there were _two_ Fairy Godmothers? And one of them had to be an impostor using Happily-Ever-After Potion?"

"That's right," I gritted my teeth. Who had been the real one? I jumped back to the picture of the brown-eyed Fairy Godmother. Yes, the message around her image was sappy. But the Fairy Godmother herself had a warm, but firm gaze, not a sugary smile. "I think this is the real one," I held up the picture.

"She does actually look like a nice person," Timmy stood on his toes. "That message seems out of place. Say," he held up a front toe, "That ink looks fresher than the parchment."

The letters did stand out on the faded paper. "So it was written later," I scanned it again. That message, so sweet it was almost…sarcastic. If this woman was the real Fairy Godmother, then… _"Don't stop believing—Mommy's little Angel,"_ I read aloud. Seeing how exact that fake Fairy Godmother was, and that message, it clicked in me. "I think the impostor was the Fairy Godmother's sister."

"It would explain how subtle their external differences were," Bennett floated away, "And how the impostor could keep up the act for centuries. But if they were sisters, considering what the impostor did…everyone in the kingdoms had to be going to the Wicked Fairy. She must've killed her and took her place."

Everything fell into clarity. The autographed picture of Hecate, why the "Fairy Godmother" threw everything off-balance and sought control of the kingdoms. Why she poisoned Bennett and had all those sleeping princesses in towers. "Well, that explains a lot," I swallowed.

"I'll say," Felicia led Bananas to the chimney. "Once we restore the balance and tell everyone the truth, a lot of people will want refunds."

"I'm definitely telling this to Baba Yaga," I stuffed the picture in my purse, then grabbed my broomstick from a corner.

—


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Felicia

"Going to Crone's Nest and telling Baba Yaga about the 'Fairy Godmother' then finding that tower sounds fantastic," I called after Ophelia a few days after we flew out of the office's chimney. "But what about our plan to go to the cottage of Fraulein Beckerhaus?"

"If the tower's in Duloc, at least one of the senior witches in Crone's Nest will know of it," Ophelia slowed her broom so that Bananas could catch up. "Those enchanted royal towers usually have protection charms on them." The ones I'd read about in royal history always did. "We won't need to go to the cottage."

"What if the tower is invisible?" Timmy held out a paw.

"You can't make a tower invisible, not to witches, anyway," she waved her hand. "Glamour leaves a film, and it's really hard for even powerful magic-users to cloak a large building. That doesn't mean witches can actually see invisible structures, but we know what to look for."

"I don't think my tower will just be invisible," Bennett flew beside her. "The Wicked Fairy never wanted me to return, and all the towers I went to had dangerous barriers."

"That sounds like her," Ophelia's eyes narrowed. "We're going to need help."

If the Wicked Fairy was hardcore around Mom's tower, then her charms around Bennett weren't going to be pretty. "Great idea," my eyes sparkled. "I know a couple ogres with experience around a similar tower."

"And I was thinking of getting my witches to join them," Ophelia raised her finger. "Get us all on one side for once."

"Well, you know what they say," Timmy twirled his paw. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend. And the Wicked Fairy was certainly your common enemy."

"We're going to need all the help we can get," Bennett's face firmed. "Recalling what I had to go through to reach those princesses, the Wicked Fairy must have my tower on lockdown."

"You mean like a lake of lava and a dragon?" My mouth tightened as I recalled the stories Mom told of her imprisonment.

Bananas gave a hurt growl.

"No offense to your mom, by the way," I patted his snout.

He gave an understanding purr.

"Things like that," Bennett nodded to me with a smile to Bananas.

"Bananas' mom guarded a tower?" Ophelia blinked down at my dronkey.

"She's a tough cookie," I raised my shoulders. "A long time ago, my mom was one of those imprisoned princesses."

"Really?" She stared over me, then her face firmed. "Now I remember. She was an ogre cursed to become human, right?"

"And she thought it was the other way around," I shook my head. "She only figured out the truth when she discovered Grandpa Harold was a frog."

"How did she not know?" Ophelia's eyes narrowed.

"She was cursed at her birth ceremony to become human by day and take her true form by night," I raised a finger.

"Her turning into an ogre at night should've told her the truth," Ophelia adjusted her hat. "Everyone knows that when it comes to those spells, the form taken in the dark's always the real one."

"Well, every _witch_ knows that," I pointed to her. "Mom thought true love's kiss—"

"Wait a minute," she broke in. "Are you saying your parents had the same problem _we're_ having?" She gestured to Bennett. "Sort of?"

Dad was a common ogre, so… "Yeah," I held out my hand. "Somewhat ordinary dark creature met cursed royal, they went on a crazy adventure against the status quo, you guys are alike."

"How's your dad special?" Ophelia cocked her head.

"I think he was the runt of his litter," my eyes drifted up. He was shorter than the other ogres around.

"Maybe he takes a lot from his witch side," she steered her broom to the left. "People who break spells tend to have magic of their own."

Mom was short for an ogre, too, and she was half-human. Dad having a lot of witch blood would explain his lack of height. Could my paternal grandmother be a witch? "When we go back to your settlement, I'll have to find out about any witches who got too close to frogs or ogres in the last century." It would be easier if Dad had more distinctive features.

"Okay, your dad's short, I look 'normal' without my hat," Ophelia bent her finger. "But who's got it worse?"

"You or Dad?"

"Your parents or Bennett and me," she pointed between us.

Who had it worse? A debate? "This might be fun," I grinned.

"Excuse me," Bennett soared in front of us. "But I don't want to be involved in a—comparison competition."

"Hey, it'll be just for fun," Ophelia reached out a careful hand. "We aren't gonna be trading insults."

Bananas flapped forward and right through Bennett with a _poof_ of blue smoke.

"Sorry," I winced.

"He'll be all right," Ophelia lowered her hand back to her broom. "Bennett?"

No translucent form took shape.

"I guess dreaming time is over," she sighed down. "But at least it opens us up to a little fun," she looked into my gleaming eyes.

Where to start? "Okay," I laid it out. "My mom had to give up life in the palace when she became an ogre full-time and married my dad. She's an outsider in the very social group she belonged to."

"Ouch," Ophelia pulled back. "But if I wake Bennett, the other witches are going to make fun of me even more and call me 'princess.'"

"Because you will be," I poked back.

"Are you kidding? With this hair?"

"You don't have green skin and funnel ears," I waved over her. "That'll be enough for the bigwigs. And you might find passing as a regular human isn't as bad as you think."

"I'd better not have to wear a hoop skirt," her mouth clenched.

"Your turn now," I tossed things back. "How's your situation worse than my parents' ordeal?"

"Was your mom an ectoplasmic being who appeared and disappeared at random?" Ophelia fired out. "Unable to make most physical contact?"

She thought that was a shot? "My mom's curse made her self-esteem _terrible,"_ I swept out my arm. "She still thinks she has to be beautiful by _human_ standards."

Ophelia's mouth drew in. "That…might be worse than not knowing why I don't fit in."

Ooh, this was gonna be good. Why not a double hit? "And your prince only got cursed with eternal beauty sleep."

"You know how hard it is on Bennett," red flared into her face. "How would you handle being unable to do the things that make you who you are?"

I paused. No scaring villagers? No tooting from my ears? No bad hygiene? "It—wouldn't be fun." And that was practically nothing, considering my ogre interests weren't a long-upheld identity.

"Then you wind up in a world you barely recognize," she added. "In the very form you never thought you could be, and you think you've failed the deepest part of yourself. Not to mention being rescued is a little hard for Bennett to swallow."

"You got me there on the last point," I pulled in my hand. "Mom had no trouble with being a damsel in distress."

"Hey, there we are," she pointed down. "Crone's Nest," she smiled down at the tiny huts below us. "Home, sweet home."

And the swamp wasn't far away. That lit an idea in me. "Why don't you and Bennett round up the witches while Timmy and I tell my folks everything?" I steered Bananas away. Mom would be in for quite the shock.

"That works for me," she pointed her broom down. "See you all back in Crone's Nest?"

"I'll do that," I nodded. Though it would be harder than it sounded.

—


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Ophelia

The Fairy Godmother was the Wicked Fairy in disguise? Bennett was an astral projection? I had to find his tower and kiss his sleeping body? This was as crazy as it could get.

"Who _is_ Baba Yaga?" Bennett hovered beside me.

"My mentor," I shrugged as I flew forward, "She's sort of my school headmistress. She's all right. Manipulative and a bit demanding, but well-meaning. Things expected of teachers."

"Do you suppose she'll like me?" His face tensed.

"I know she'll like how well I summoned you," I smiled. "I'll lose a point for not having an exact way of calling you, but that won't be much compared to how complete you are. And she's not very judgmental; you two'll probably be okay with each other. But if you don't get along, I'll be there to keep an eye on things." Not that I was a good mediator or anything. "There's…something I have to tell you about." Hopefully he wouldn't take it too badly.

"What's the matter?"

"It's not Baba Yaga we have to worry about in Crone's Nest. It's my peers. See, I'm really sorry, but they'll probably laugh at us when they see I summoned you."

"You told me you had originally hoped for someone more gruesome," Bennett's eyes raised in recollection. "But I won't let anyone laugh at you."

"I know," I smiled, then looked down to see the leafy trees of Crone's Nest welcome me home with their long, gnarled branches.

We soared down to the tower of offices.

I dismounted at the entrance. Flying up to her window was a shorter route, but it was impolite and too high for me. What would Baba Yaga say when she saw my necromancy practicum was done? And that it was a failure?

Bennett used telekinesis to push open the heavy oak door. "After you."

"Thanks." I walked past him, letting him shut the door behind us.

We strode and flew down a short hallway to the winding stairwell.

I climbed up to Baba's office, Bennett floating beside me. I stopped at her door, finding there was no sign saying she was occupied. "Baba Yaga?" I knocked.

There was a few seconds' pause, then Baba opened the door. "Ophelia, you're back," she smiled. "And," her eyes went to Bennett. "You've completed your practicum. Who is this?"

"I am Prince Bennett of Duloc," Bennett bowed to Baba. "Who are you?"

"I am Baba Yaga, the headmistress of Crone's Nest Hall," Baba half-curtsied. "Your mistress is one of my pupils."

"Mistress?" Bennett blinked.

"I know it sounds strange to you," Baba chuckled. "But that's what a witch is to the ghost she possesses. Come into my office." She led us into an earthy room dimly lit by small, tulip-shaped lamps mounted upon the walls. The room was small enough to be intimate, but large enough to hold a long desk. A crystal ball the size of a tennis ball rested on a stand shaped like a lotus flower, the stand upon the desk. A small, curling wooden chair sat one end of the desk, a large, carmine-cushioned armchair with a frame shaped like a Gothic arch on the other. A pentagram was carved into the granite floor. "You seem to be summoned well," Baba traced Bennett with a small smile.

"Thank you," Bennett and I said together, then shared a giggle.

Baba gave us a curious look.

"But it's not perfect," I quickly straightened. "Bennett has a tendency to appear and disappear almost at random."

"Apprentice mistake," she sighed and shook her head. "Where are your traveling companions?"

"At Felicia's swamp," I shut the door behind us. "They're going to arrive here with her family, then we can finish our mission to restore the balance. We came here to show you my progress—and to ask for reinforcements."

"We need your help to bring me back," Bennett pointed to himself. "I'm not a ghost—I'm an astral projection."

The back of my neck tightened.

Baba Yaga's eyes narrowed. "That's another apprentice mistake."

"I'll redo the practicum," I sputtered. "As soon as Bennett and I…take care of business."

She blinked. "Business?"

"I have to, um, perform an act of questionable consent?" I shifted my weight.

"Oh," she swallowed. "And why do you need the other witches to help you with this…unusual endeavor?"

"My body's locked up in a tower surrounded by a perpetual storm, and maybe other magical defenses," Bennett held his arm aside. "When Ophelia wakes me, the light will return, and balance with it."

"Felicia's telling the other ogres at the swamp everything we discovered," my eyes trailed off. "They'll be coming here soon."

"I see. We can get help as soon as I've looked you over, Prince Bennett. What's your history?" Baba came behind her desk. "If you don't mind telling me?"

"Not a problem," Bennett raised his hand. "I lived three centuries ago, when the Wicked Fairy, under the guise of the Fairy Godmother, had just begun her rule over Far Far Away."

"The Fairy Godmother was an impostor?" Baba put a hand to her chin.

"The one with blue eyes was," I pulled out the parchment and placed it on her desk.

"I see," Baba held up the picture. "The Wicked Fairy injured you, didn't she, Bennett?" Her eyes went to the dark spot on his shoulder.

"Yes," Bennett looked down at his wound. "I disobeyed the Wicked Fairy's orders to marry a princess who only cared for what I was, and ran off to seek true love. The Wicked Fairy summoned the Huntsman to strike me down with a poisoned arrow." He pointed to the dark patch on his shoulder. "Everything was warm, heavy darkness until Ophelia summoned me."

Baba held up her hand to the smoky edge of his arm, feeling the warm air that emanated from him. "What object did you come from?"

"This," I unclipped my amulet and laid it upon the parchment. "It's an amulet with the ability to bring the heart of its bearer to their true love. It belonged to the Fairy Godmother—I took it from her workshop."

"This trinket is no Ring of Solomon, or even comparable to my crystal ball of memories," Baba leaned down to the necklace, running her fingers over its jewel. "But it's not bad, I must say." She straightened.

"Baba Yaga," my eyes tensed hesitantly, "The adventure I've had has got me thinking about a lot of things. But one thing above all others—why am I like this?" Witches didn't usually like princes. And even with the super-protected tower ahead, not much was in my way. Bennett clearly wasn't descended from sorcerers, and as I had just shown up at Crone's Nest years ago, there had to be something with me.

"Like what, Ophelia?" Baba raised an eyebrow and shut the book on its red ribbon bookmark. "What do you mean?"

"Why do I like Bennett? Why aren't I as fearsome-looking as all the other witches?"

Baba's face firmed, but her eyes softened in sadness. "Then, I'll have to show you." She returned her book to her desk. "You may release Bennett now."

"Thank you," I nodded shakily. I returned to Bennett.

"Is everything going to be all right?" Bennett almost took my shoulders.

"Yes. You may now return to the beyond."

My emerald glowed again, Bennett warped back into a column of smoke, and the smoke swirled back into the jewel.

Baba Yaga beckoned me to the small chair. "Sit down and look into the crystal ball. Try to calm your mind. This crystal ball contains the knowledge of every witch who has ever lived at Crone's Nest."

I slowly pulled out the chair and took a seat. I cupped my chin in my hands, trying to push back the anxieties, desires, and frustrations as I gazed into the crystal ball. _Empty. Empty._

A small room emerged in the crystal ball, and shaped around me. The room was earthy-russet, and seemed warm, especially with the lit fireplace I could barely see. There was something familiar about this place.

The parlor widened around me, and took shape. Its mantelpiece was bare. A worn leather armchair was the only piece of furniture. But the room was even warmer now with the fire larger and closer, and the warmth seemed to spread inside of me.

Laughter reached my ears. Three people laughing. A man, a woman, and a small child. The family entered the parlor, revealing themselves to be as simple as their surroundings. Their features made everything in me stop.

The woman shook back a loose ponytail of bushy black hair. I had seen her nose, her mouth, and the shape of her face whenever I saw my reflection. The only way she looked different from me, besides not wearing a pointed, wide-brimmed hat, was that her eyes were black olives.

But the man had hazel eyes, the exact same vegetable-manure shade as my own. Though framed by a chestnut beard, his smile was the one I had whenever I was truly happy. The man's eyes, my own eyes, twinkled as he playfully adjusted a baby, nearly a toddler, in his arms.

Judging by the miniature smock, the child was a girl.

I knew that for sure when I saw her tiny mop of dark curls and hazel eyes. "Mom? Dad?" I whispered into the space. "Me?"

My parents and past self were only memories, and didn't hear my words. The emptiness only drew questions.

I'm sure I had asked one question years ago; where did I come from? But I suppose I wasn't really given an answer, and I forgot the question, assuming I just popped up here somehow. But my nose didn't have large warts and didn't take up half my face. My skin didn't have the greenish tint that the skin of some witches had. Now, the pieces all started to click in. My parents were the sort of people that I stole picnic baskets from! Fortunately, my family didn't seem saccharine. Well, how could someone like me be accepted in a perfectly goody-goody household? Still, I could barely believe my parents were smiling at me, at my magic. Parents. Laughter. So much in only a few seconds. How could this be? A witch, born here in this bright little house, to have people smile at her? _Witches can't love. Witches can't love._ But I had proven that wrong, I pushed against it. Was the reason why right in front of me? Why I had gotten to feel more than the other witches. Then, another question struck me. Why did I grow up at Crone's Nest with other witches, instead of in this house with my parents?

My infant self raised a short, chubby arm, flexed her caterpillar fingers, and sparkles came out of her hands. Sparkles? _Light_ magic? I had thought my earliest magical attempts were doing things like conjuring miasma.

"That's quite a gift you've got there, little Ophelia," my dad praised with a chuckle. "It comes from your side of the family, doesn't it, Miriam?"

"I don't have those powers, Robert, but my great-grandmother was a witch from a whole line of them," my mom smiled at me as well.

Their smiles suspended my scorn. I couldn't discard something I barely knew, but had to grasp as long and as hard as I could, like a kitten at its mother's teat. My parents loved me. That was as clear as the parlor window. Then…my stomach deflated like an animal bladder colliding with an exposed nail. I couldn't have been rejected. Something terrible must have had happened.

My young form squirmed and started to cry.

"Shh," my mom hushed. "Is it time for bed, Sweetheart?"

There was a pattering upon the window.

"I didn't hear of rain in the forecast," my dad went to the window and opened it cautiously. He started back, and looked at my younger self. "It's not rain. It's bubbles."

Sure enough, bubbles floated into the room.

Despite the bubbles seeming harmless, my body tensed. Why did I always get nervous around bubbles?

One bubble grew larger and revealed the form of a winged woman inside. The Wicked Fairy, clad in the innocent blue dress of her sister. She explained my nerves.

I tightened further, foreboding chilling my veins. Why was she here? A sharp, cruel question pricked my thoughts. Was she why I grew up in Crone's Nest?

My dad studied the haughty face and plump body of the Wicked Fairy. "The royalty sure has puffed her up too much," he muttered. So _that's_ where my sass came from.

"What brings you to us?" My mom held my younger self closer.

The bubble around the Wicked Fairy popped. "You're the one who gave your child magic, aren't you?" The Wicked Fairy smiled cheerily at my mom, but her light blue eyes were shrewd. "Who are you?"

"Miriam Ashworth Postington," my mom kept her voice firm.

"Ashworth?" Now, the Wicked Fairy's eyes widened in glee. "A witch name. I knew there were witches in your family. When your child was born, I sensed her magic in her tears."

"Why are you here?" my mom raised her voice. "We don't need your help."

"Don't need my help?" The Wicked Fairy gasped. "Surely your baby will need to control her powers. I can help her with that. She could serve me well. The witches at Crone's Nest could take care of all the unpleasantries for you, and long-distance relationships are quite healthy, you know." Her pale blue eyes didn't make direct contact with my family. What was she _really_ going to do?

My younger self held onto my mom, and my dad partly blocked them both.

"I don't think that will be necessary," my mom spoke.

The Wicked Fairy's eyes narrowed. "Please, do consider what I can do for your family, Miriam. I can give your daughter glory."

"We don't need glory," my dad spoke up.

"What does your wife say?" The Wicked Fairy crossed her thick arms.

"I agree with Robert," my mom's lips tightened. "This life is enough for our family."

"Think of your daughter as an individual!" the Wicked Fairy circled low around the family. "If she grows up around all you common folk, she might be considered a freak."

 _Because of you,_ I thought. If the Wicked Fairy had allowed wizards and witches to roam free instead of making them serve her ideas of happily-ever-after, they wouldn't be seen as outcasts.

"But," my dad spoke after a pause, "Even if there are those that won't understand, she'll have us. We'll help make her magic part of her community. And Ophelia will likely have the needs of most human girls. If she grows up with only other witches, she may feel…unfulfilled when she comes of age."

The Wicked Fairy threw her head back and laughed. "Ha! You think your daughter should love? You don't know a thing about witches. All witches want to do is cause misfortune for those around them. Witches are like ogres, and not just because most of them are ugly, green, and use disgusting animal parts. No, it's because they don't get happy endings."

"And why not?" my dad's hazel eyes sharpened.

"Because witches can't love."

"My great-grandmother gave up her coven to marry a carpenter," my mom countered sharply.

"But do you know she loved him?" the Wicked Fairy shot back.

"No," my mom shook her head, "But she just as likely could have."

"Oh, you're so simple," the Wicked Fairy snorted, rolled her eyes, and turned her head away with a hand to her forehead.

"Well, duh," my dad gestured to the parlor. "We're peasants."

The Wicked Fairy turned her head back to them, her brows lowered until they nearly went behind her cat-eye glasses. "Listen," she advanced. "I am the mistress of magic. If anyone knows all about witches, it's me. And I will have no cracks and counters!" She stiffly pointed her wand at my parents, a move I recognized as a combative gesture. "If your little Ophelia does grow up to feel desire, it will benefit her well in my service. She'll actually _want_ to poison princesses, as she'll see they have everything she can't have." She noticed her gesture and lowered her wand. "Please, dear commoners, don't make this any worse for you. Just give me the baby, and I'll be out of your way!"

"That's the first time you've looked us in the eye," my dad noticed along with me. "What do you really want to do with Ophelia?"

"You want the truth, do you?" the Wicked Fairy's eyes narrowed to icy pinpricks. "I sensed her tears when she was born, but that's because I sense the tears of princesses. So, to learn she was the daughter of two peasants, one descended from witches, I knew exactly what sort of princess she is. Robert, Miriam, your child is the future princess of Duloc."

I froze. I was the future princess of Duloc? How? Maybe through a ghostly marriage, if that existed? No matter what, the Wicked Fairy knew what I could become. I could restore the balance. Destroy the so-called "happily-ever-after" that the Wicked Fairy had created. And the Wicked Fairy knew that. She was here to take me to a better place, but not in the way she had initially told my parents.

"The princess of Duloc?" my dad cocked his chestnut-waved head. "This land ruled by that short-legged fellow, Lord Farquaad? Why would my daughter marry a forty-year-old who clearly has no idea what frugality is and has possible, uh…" he looked down at my younger self. "…problems in his aquarium?"

A growl came through the Wicked Fairy's gritted teeth.

"Robert's right," my mom drew close to him. "How can she be a princess there?"

"Miriam, Miriam," the Wicked Fairy took a deep breath and loosely twirled her wand. "You come from a long line of witches. Surely you've been told about a little incident that happened in Duloc three hundred years ago, one involving a spoiled brat who thought he could go against me with his silly idea that true love doesn't require rescuing a beautiful princess?" She laughed emptily. "Well, after three hundred years of peace and quiet," the Wicked Fairy's anger rose to the surface again as she leaned forward, "When I thought there would be peace and quiet _forever,"_ she swiped her arms away from her chest in a scissor motion,"Your daughter was born, and I realized that in about seventeen years, your daughter would bring back the Prince!"

My dad paused, then gave a half-nervous laugh. "I know this sounds disrespecting," he waved his hand, "But Prince Bennett has been dead for centuries. What was left of him after that hunting accident has turned to dust in his small tomb."

"I know," she raised her eyes, "You believe the mess of limbs, flesh, and innards found by that peasant was the remains of your land's unfortunate heir. But that gore was merely the result of sticks wrapped in fabric, soaked in water and a great deal of glamour," she twirled her wand. "The truth is that I disposed of Prince Bennett of Duloc."

"What?" My mom gasped. "But you always have been close to the royalty. Why would you—murder one?"

"Oh, I didn't murder him," she chuckled. "He'd just get reborn and take revenge on me. No, I poisoned him and locked him high in a tower surrounded by a perpetual storm, where he's enjoying a nice long snooze."

A storm-ringed tower. That was it.

"I know it seems rather shocking," she shook her head, "But I can't have Prince Bennett around. He'd unravel the big, beautiful world I made for everyone, especially you simple folk."

"What sort of a fairy godmother are you, really?" my dad retorted. "You say you want everyone to live happily-ever-after, yet you poisoned a boy and enslaved my wife's ancestors. How would you defend that?"

If foreboding wasn't running its icy fingers down the back of my neck, freezing my body in place, I would've made a crack about that.

"You question my power?" The Wicked Fairy took the combative stance yet again, this time fully purposeful. "Enough of all this! I should never have tried to reason with you two drudges in the first place! Your daughter will not become a princess! She will never be able to share true love!" She blasted a curse straight at me.

But as she did so, my dad leapt in front of her wand.

The ice binding me snapped apart. My arm shot out, trying to grasp anything. _"No!"_

The curse struck him, sending his body to the floor. Felicia's story of her mom rushed back to me like a torrent of water breaking floodgates. This was the moment when King Harold leapt in front of Fiona. This was how my first life ended. I knew the moment I saw the Wicked Fairy float into my house. What could reaching and crying out have done?

My mom's eyes were fire and melting ice as she turned away and hurried off with her child in her arms.

"Oh, you all want to be difficult, don't you?" The Wicked Fairy growled and flew after them.

I followed the Wicked Fairy as if I were attached to her back along with her wings. Though my feelings behind the words were different, I knew what she knew; my mom wouldn't run far.

My mom threw the door open, darted out into the shadowy forest dimly defined by the starry sky.

The Wicked Fairy flew in front of my mother. "Give me the child, Miriam. You're young enough to have another family. You don't have to be like your unfortunate mundane husband and make things difficult. Do a favor for your superior by keeping her hands as clean as can be. Do I have to rip your baby from you?" The Wicked Fairy seized my younger self's waist and pulled.

My mom reached out a hand—and grasped the Wicked Fairy's wand, trying to tug it away.

"Let go of my wand, you wooly nanny goat! Well, as this is what you've set yourself for, so be it." She fired another curse from her wand.

My mom's hands dropped from me, and she crumpled forward onto the dark gray-blue grass.

The Wicked Fairy lifted my younger self high, high into the air as she kept crying and reaching out for her mom. The sharp tip of the Wicked Fairy's wand nearly poked my little heart. "Oh, don't cry, baby. You'll be with Mommy and Daddy again. Now, it's your turn."

My tiny arm flew upwards and knocked the wand out of the Wicked Fairy's hand.

"My wand!" The Wicked Fairy watched it fall, then glared down at me. "It's your fault you had to make this messy." With that, she threw me down to the dark space over fifty feet below and flew after her wand.

Gasping, I burst from the vision. My sweaty hands clutched the crystal ball. Everything made sense.

"I caught you before you hit," Baba's voice drew me away from the crystal ball. "I didn't see the Wicked Fairy, but just seeing you fall, seeing what you looked like, let me know what had happened, even before I brought you to Crone's Nest and used my crystal ball to record your story."

"Thank you," I breathed. "But if you knew—knew my parents were…normal people, if you knew my destiny, then why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I needed to be sure you could accept anything, and that took time. That ogress, Felicia—her parents accidentally kept you safe due to their wedding distracting the Wicked Fairy from her search for you. You've heard about Lord Farquaad's campaign to eliminate fairytale creatures from Duloc. That wasn't just due to his vanity and his insecurity over his dwarf blood—he was doing it for the Wicked Fairy to ensure that she was the only magical force around. The other witches and I brought you to the swamp where Felicia would be born, staying there until Farquaad's demise. When Felicia arrived at Crone's Nest, I knew that the time had come for balance to be restored, and that you were meant to help her. That is why I really sent you on the quest, beyond just fulfilling your studies." She took my shoulders. "You have found the rest of us, the truth about the 'Fairy Godmother.' You even surpassed my expectations when you summoned Bennett."

"Really?" I raised my head. "You don't think it was all a big mistake?"

"Not when you care for him," Baba looked into my eyes.

"Wait, what?" I stiffened. "What makes you think that? I don't have a clue what you—"

"There's no shame in that," she chuckled and stroked my hair. "You're young. You came from ordinary people. But you want to restore the light?"

I sighed down. "Bennett deserves a better life."

"You _have_ learned things," Baba stared at me, and a smile spread across her face. "Now, go. I'll bring the other witches to the gates."

"Thank you," I burst out of the study, darted down the steps, and out onto the grass. _"Bennett,"_ I grasped my emerald, staring around at the circle of a world I had known for most of my life.

The emerald grew hot, and smoke poured between my fingers.

"What happened during the rest of your meeting with Baba Yaga?" Bennett shaped from the smoky column. "What did she show you?" He stopped as he gazed at my wet face. "What happened?" The warm breeze of his hand stroked my cheek.

"I-I found out about my parents," I looked down and gripped my arms. "I'm not a normal witch, if 'normal' and 'witch' can be said at once, that is." I raised my head with a slight chuckle.

Bennett returned the chuckle. "What did you find out about your parents?"

"My parents were two ordinary people."

"That's," Bennett paused, "Unexpected, but at the same time, not surprising."

"I know. I had no idea, but it explains everything about me. The way I look, my interest in you. Well, my parents were _mostly_ ordinary. My mom was descended from a witch."

"What happened to your parents? You said you grew up here."

The images flashed back to me like close lightning. "About us having a connection from the beginning—my parents were killed by the Wicked Fairy."

Bennett's eyes and mouth opened.

"She was trying to kill me," I grasped my arm. "She sensed that I was the future princess of Duloc and didn't want me to be that because she knew that meant I could restore the balance. My parents stepped in front of her. They died for me."

"Ophelia, I'm sorry," he reached out for my shoulders.

"You-you told me you didn't have parents, either," my eyes drifted down. "Do you remember them?"

"No," Bennett lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "I wish I did. My father died fighting a dragon. My mother died giving birth to me. All I know of them are their portraits."

"At least you know what they looked like," I said after a pause. "When I first saw my parents, I saw so much about myself. What did your parents look like?"

"I mostly look like my mother," Bennett chuckled. "All I really got from my father was his nose. What about your parents?"

"I'm a dead ringer for my mom. All I got from my dad was the color of my eyes. But personality-wise, I'm more like my dad."

"Sassy?"

"Yep," I chuckled with him. I paused as another part of the memory floated back. "The Wicked Fairy told my parents where you are. You're in a tower surrounded by a perpetual storm."

"Then a hurricane's ahead," he stared at the partly-cloudy sky.

One of the familiar witches soared up to us. "Ophelia?" Her eyes jumped to me after they stared over Bennett.

"What's going on, Jane?" I cocked my head.

"I'd like to talk to you," she pointed in the direction of the gates. "A bunch of ogres are outside the gates, and the ogress who sent you on that trip says they're all here because you want them to work with us."

"That's right," I gave a nod as I headed for the gates. "I know ogres and witches haven't worked together for three hundred years, but we need to team up to restore the light."

"Fine—what?" She blinked. "Restore the light? Aren't we supposed to be worried about the darkness?"

"Things have been turned inside out," my mouth tensed. "It sounds crazy, but the Fairy Godmother was the Wicked Fairy, and everyone's been living unhappily-ever-after."

"That—explains some things," Her eyes narrowed. "So those princesses are…"

"Brainwashed into submission," I lowered my head.

"And what about that Prince Charming who tried to recruit our kind?" She touched her warty chin.

"He was an impostor as well," Bennett crossed his arms.

"Okay," she waved a long-fingered green hand, "We need to get things back to normal. Why do we need to team up with the ogres to restore the light?"

"We have to fly to a tower on an island in Duloc Lake," my eyes firmed. "It's surrounded by an enchanted storm. The mission's going to require a lot of people looking out for each other."

"What's in the tower?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I am," Bennett held up a hand. "Well, my body's in there."

"He's a three hundred-year-old astral projection," my mouth tensed.

Jane paused, then her eyes widened. "Are-are you…" She pointed between us.

"Yep," I nodded. "Can you let me go to those ogres so we can take care of business?"

Jane stepped away and let me head forward.

There were eight ogres outside the gate, counting Felicia. And with them were six dronkeys including Bananas, a giant crimson dragon with a scruffy gray donkey atop it, and Timmy and an older-looking orange tabby, who also wore boots and a feathered hat.

"Hey, Felicia," I flew up to the gates. "Sorry the gatekeeper needed us to explain why you all came here."

"There you are," a full-lipped smile spread across Felicia's face. "What took you so long?"

"Discovery of human parents who were killed by the Wicked Fairy, then I had to explain you all to the gatekeeper," I dismounted. "Are you all ready?"

"So these two are the ghost and witch who brought us here," One of the shorter ogres gestured to us.

"That's Ophelia and Bennett, Dad," Felicia raised her shoulders.

The ogress beside him stared over Bennett, a shine of recognition in her blue eyes. "I'm Princess Fiona."

Bennett traced over her tiara and blue gown. "You waited for me, didn't you?"

"I did once," a bittersweet smile touched her face.

"I'm sorry about this," Bennett gestured to his translucent body. "That I wasn't there for you."

"I found a better ending," she looked up at the ogre beside her. "And I'm happy to help you find yours."

Witches began to approach us with their broomsticks in hand.

"All right, let's mount our scaly steeds," Felicia's father climbed on the dragon, with Fiona right behind.

The orange cat scampered up after them.

Felicia and the other ogres hoisted themselves onto the dronkeys.

Timmy joined Felicia on Bananas as usual.

Baba Yaga slid into her mortar and readied her pestle.

"Let's go," I mounted my broomstick and kicked off from the ground. We've got a balance to restore, and that requires you and a whole army of darkness," I pointed to Bennett.

The other witches followed.

 _"Yahoo!"_ The donkey brayed. "Another crazy adventure! And when the witch wakes up the prince, I'll give him a big plate of waffles!"

If the tower had a kitchen, that is.

"Ophelia," Bennett whirled after me, "If I wasn't—this, the idea of me being with 'a whole army of darkness' would be impossible."

"Do you like it?" I cocked my head. It definitely wasn't something he'd done before, not even in past lives.

"I…" his eyes trailed away, "…I think so," he looked back at me with a smile. "I've gotten to know the other side of things."

"And I'm glad I have you as my ghost," my hand tapped the warm air of his back. "Er, astral projection."

The entire party lifted off from Crone's Nest.

"I know where this Tempest Tower is," Baba Yaga took the lead. "It's on one of the little islands in Duloc Lake."

"Told you it wasn't far," I winked.

—


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Bennett

After half an hour of flying, the large and familiar lake spread out before us.

Above it was a partly cloudy sky steadily growing into a stormy one. This wouldn't make finding my tower a simple task.

We landed on the muddy bank, surrounded by grass and moss-coated trees.

"We're on the edge of the lake," Felicia spread out her arm. "So, where's the tower?"

On the horizon, there was only a mass of dark gray clouds…and a little black dot in the distance. The darkest clouds were right above that dot. That had to be it.

"It's that black dot out there," I pointed to it.

"What dot?" Felicia's eyes narrowed. "All I see is clouds."

"Wait," Ophelia held up her hand. "This is glamour. Bennett saw a black dot out there, but we can't see it because we're not princes—I read about protection charms like these in the Wicked Fairy's spell book."

"So, what does that mean?" Timmy raised his paws.

"It means I'm going first," my face tensed.

"Cloaking charms for everyone else," Ophelia waved her wand.

"Oh, _there's_ the black dot," Felicia's eyes widened. "Now I see what you were talking about," she peered out. "What's the best route to the tower? It's on an island, so we can't walk."

"How about you conjure up a boat, Ophelia?" Timmy offered.

"We can't do that, either," she pointed to the churning waves. "Look what's around there."

Small, snapping shapes, sharp fins, and hooked tentacles the height and width of cannons thrashed about in the foam.

"Piranhas, sharks and a kraken," I gritted my teeth. "I had a feeling the Wicked Fairy wouldn't just secure me with glamour and a magic storm." I looked up into the pounding droplets. "This could just be me being a spirit, but could we reach the tower by air?"

"Seems like the only option," Ophelia nodded and lowered her head.

"But we will not see squat in those clouds!" Timmy thrust his arms across his squat body.

"That's what we witches are here for," Baba Yaga drew her wand. "We'll do our best to blast away the clouds, forming as much of a clear path as we can."

"All right then," Timmy put his paws on his hips, "I am in. And you, Felicia?"

"Let's go," Felicia grinned and mounted Bananas.

Ophelia clenched her jaw, pulled her hat on tight, and mounted her broom.

"Wait for me," Timmy climbed in front of her on the broom. "Bananas can get panicky, and I have a poor grip. I think it would be best if I hitch your ride. Does that work for you?"

"Sure. I'd like an extra pair of eyes while I try to steer," Ophelia kicked the broom off towards the raging clouds.

"I'll help," I flew beside her. This was my mission, after all.

"Thanks," she bent tight over her broom.

 _"No problem!"_ Timmy and I called together.

"Really," she managed to smile through the storm. "Don't take yourselves for granted, you guys."

"Take ourselves for granted?" Timmy looked up at me. "The swashbuckling cat and the Prince?"

"On second thought," Ophelia lowered her eyes, "Don't get too full of yourselves."

We joined Baba Yaga and the other witches in an oval formation around the ogres.

Ophelia blasted a hex into bunch of clouds, which shrunk them for a few seconds.

Everyone knew we needed the whole witch army.

"Up! Up!" Timmy yowled.

"What?" I pried my eyes up at the light-cracked dark clouds.

"Not _look_ up, _go_ up!" Timmy's claws snagged Ophelia's blouse.

"Hey! Get your claws out of my corset!" She tried to pull him off. "What's going on?"

Timmy pointed down to the sharp fins and long, snapping jaws of sharks just a few inches below.

She zipped upwards and panted. "Sorry about that—low-flying habit."

We had to lower the risks somehow. My spectral eyes darted about. "I could navigate through the storm ahead of us and try to keep us on the smoothest— _Aah!"_ A lightning bolt nearly blasted through me, and I zipped out the way. "Watch out for lightning."

"Got it," she nodded grimly. "And I like your idea, Bennett. Fly ahead."

Then, a great, burgundy peak shaped like a bowling pin slowly rose from the waves. An eye the size of my head opened in the peak's center. Six enormous, hook-studded tentacles lashed up from the waves like whips. A burbling growl came from the churning foam.

"The kraken," I firmed myself. At least it wasn't a dragon—better giant, hooked tentacles then magical fire breath.

"What's your problem with us, Sea Monster?" Ophelia snapped down to it. "Well, other than trying to enter the tower you're guarding, that is."

A tentacle crashed down in front of us, splashing a spray in our faces.

I flew backwards with a jerk.

 _"Ack!"_ Ophelia sputtered and wiped her mouth. "I think it threw a fish at me!"

I ducked a swiping, hooked tentacle.

There were tentacles all around us, eager to snare us, spear us with their hooks, and pop us in that sharp beak underwater.

We zipped left and right and loop-de-looped, ducking and dodging tentacles.

Ophelia fired a burning hex at a tentacle, and it dropped into the brine with a _hiss._

As she threw hexes, the kraken's tentacles dodged them and lashed out at her.

"Leave my witch alone!" I floated down in front of the kraken, arms crossed, my spectral eyes set in a glare.

The kraken pointed a tentacle at me, then at the tower, and back at me again with confused noises. Its wide eye shuttled with its tentacle.

"His body's still in the tower, you overgrown pile of calamari!" Ophelia yelled up.

The kraken looked back down at me, its eye narrowed, and it growled again.

I whistled. _"Oy!"_

The kraken's eye turned back to me, and it widened again, still unable to understand.

"I'm the spirit of the Prince," I placed my hands on my chest to better display my transparency.

The kraken's scaly red skin blanched, and a short shriek burst from the waves.

A mischievous grin spread across my face. _"Boo!"_ I shouted at the kraken.

The kraken's beak briefly emerged from the surf as it let out a high-pitched cry and splashed through the waves into the distance.

"See ya, Cyclops!" Ophelia waved. "You," she gave me an air fist-bump, "Are the best spirit ever."

"Thank you," my cheeks turned a deeper shade of ghostly blue.

 _Crash!_ Bananas burst through the glass, and landed in the tower with a _thump._

The wind forced rain through the crooked hole.

I hovered just beyond the window, and peered through the spiderweb-shaped gap to see a vast, sand-colored circular floor.

Doves fluttered about, and three large grizzly bears sniffed about a coach.

"Looks like we'll have company," my teeth gritted. First the storm, then the sea monsters, and now this?

At the far back, there was the hint of a thin, wooden stairwell.

I flew down through the wide hole and into the tower. While I couldn't exactly get wet, it wasn't pleasant to have cold, sharp rain shoot through me.

Ophelia and Timmy burst through the hole in the glass.

"I knew you guys could do it," Felicia beamed.

"What is all this _ruckus?!"_ a voice screeched.

Goldilocks stormed down the stairwell and into the hall, her hands and face clenched.

"Just giving you a warning that we're not outnumbered," Felicia put her hands on her hips.

"Prepare to fight!" Timmy jumped down from Ophelia's broom and raised his épée. Then, his fur puffed up to dry, turning him into a gray-and-white pompom. "Water," he grumbled and straightened out his fur. _"En garde!"_ he thrust out his épée.

"So," Goldilocks puffed short and low, like a bull about to charge, "You found Tempest Tower. Want to see your ghost prince in the flesh, do you?"

"There are a few things we can't do when I'm disembodied," I held out my hands with a mischievous smile.

"Why should my relationship with Bennett be a problem?" Ophelia waved her wand. "I'm not as wicked as I was before."

"Because you're a witch!"

"Then you're a hypocrite," she fired a hex.

Goldilocks ducked, and the spell grazed over her curls to strike the wall.

"Defend the mistress!" Fred led the charge of doves.

Dragon opened her wide maw, ready to get a meal on the fly.

"You can't have a dragon!" Goldilocks strode forward. "Only the Fairy Godmother had dragons!"

"Sit down and shut up," Ophelia shot a laryngitis and binding hex at her with two flicks of my wand.

Goldilocks flopped face-first onto the floor, ropes around her arms, wrists, and ankles. She raised her head and opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

I bent low under the birds and led my team to the stairwell.

Ophelia held up her wand and took the thin bannister.

"I think our story is near its end," Timmy looked over his shoulder at Felicia as we climbed the stairs.

I floated to the platform and ornate cherry door ahead of us. "That was one adventure we had together, wasn't it?"

A warm, pulling sensation rose in me.

I began to taper into smoke. "I'll see you when I wake," I smiled at Ophelia.

"See you soon," she lifted her head with a warm, firm smile in return.

Wispy tendrils of ectoplasm spread out from my legs. My torso started to taper along with his lower body. I crossed my arms and shut my eyes as I dissolved into fading bits of smoke, into warm darkness until my true eyes opened.

—


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Ophelia

Only the door lay in front of me now.

Here it went. The craziest thing I'd ever done in my life. I took a deep breath, tapped the door with my wand to unlock it, and slowly pushed it open.

A wide room lay ahead, dimly lit by the early dawn. It had warmth like the coziness of my parents' parlor, and the sunlight in the playful parts of Crone's Nest.

Felicia entered the room after me.

Bananas and Timmy followed us.

The only furniture in the room was a four-poster framed by blue curtains, a pair of leather boots beside it.

Lying upon white satin, half-blanketed under a cobalt velvet cover, was Bennett in the flesh. Color filled his cheeks, and his chest slowly rose and fell.

I pocketed my wand, slowly walked over to the bed, and smiled down at Bennett's sleeping face.

His red lips pursed just slightly, but perfectly. They were even raised at the corners.

I leaned down, and stroked Bennett's dawn-glistened hair down to his cheek. One last deep breath. This was it. I shut my eyes and kissed him.

Sunlight shattered the darkness, and spread its warmth across me, through me. I was here, my heart pumping faster, leaping, energy pulsing through my lips. And yet within, I was on my broomstick, free of my fear of falling too far. Something was gone, something was broken, shattered into three hundred pieces.

I slowly parted from Bennett's mouth and blinked open my eyes to the blazing beams of the sun.

The glare in front of my gaze softened.

I turned to the window to find the tempest was now reduced to a rosy ribbon of clouds between a great, golden orb and a playful blue sea in which dolphins splashed under a misty rainbow. The dagger-like droplets had dwindled into a gentle patter of morning rain upon the window.

My stomach lurched. If there were singing bluebirds of happiness with this, I was really gonna be sick.

But not all light things made my gut turn. I looked back at Bennett to find him unchanged.

Then, his eyelashes slowly parted to reveal emerald eyes. The smile remained on his face. His eyes widened as they traced down to his solid frame upon the bed. He pushed himself up, threw the lily upon the floor, and wrapped his arms around me.

I buried my hook-nosed face in his shoulder, pressing my fingertips into his solid warmth, feeling every breath.

Bennett stretched his arms with a yawn when I parted from him.

Bananas's long, scaly jaw was on the floor, eyes staring in a single direction.

Timmy's eyes were at cute width, and a wide smile took up half of his face.

Felicia's eyes jumped between Bennett and me.

"I felt your kiss draw me out of the darkness," Bennett gazed warmly at me as he stroked my temple down to my chin, gathering some curls across my jawline. "May I give you mine in return?"

 _What?_ Holy moly, was this really happening? "Yes," everything rushed into me.

With that, he tilted his head and filled my lips with warmth.

The tingle reverberated through me after he drew away.

I put a hand to my mouth, panting. My heart thumped in my head. If this didn't work, at least I could brag to the other witches that I'd gotten the Prince's kiss.

"So," I turned to Felicia, half-breathless, "You did say there could be a story of a witch rescuing a prince. What do we do now?"

"Leave this tower," Bennett parted from me and stuck his stocking feet into the boots beside the bed. "I can't wait to get out of here," he slid his legs down and rose to his feet.

"I'll head downstairs first," Felicia led the way. "You two being together should be a surprise."

Bananas loped after her.

"I'll go in between," Timmy followed them. "Does that sound all right?"

"As long as you watch Bananas, Felicia," I warned. "You don't want a dronkey on a cat."

 _"Sí,_ that would not be good," Timmy winced.

"Now it's our turn," Bennett held out his hand.

I took it, and we walked down the stairs together.

Felicia threw the door open.

We stepped out into the light, and a crescendo of applause rose.

Felicia and Timmy joined the cheering crowds.

But Bennett and I stayed in the doorway.

"It's time to go home, isn't it?" I looked up at him and faced him completely.

"I believe it is for me."

"Then, we'll part ways?" The truth hung in me. We belonged in different worlds now.

But he took my shoulders with a smile. "The stories have returned," he looked out at everyone, then back into my eyes. "The old rules of divisions are gone. If you want to, you can come with me."

Warmth rushed into me and lightened everything. "Well, I do have the picture of the real Fairy Godmother," I looped my hands around his shoulders, "I'll have to come and show it to all the nobility so we can start to clean up this long mess. Maybe I can turn a few of them into frogs if they don't believe you're the real prince," I chuckled. "And hey, I've never been in a castle before, so…I'm in." Maybe even for the long run, though that would be nuts.

"Then let's leave together," Bennett wrapped his hands around my waist, lifted me up, and spun me around.

—


	23. Epilogue

Epilogue

Ophelia's feet land upon the floor.

The interior of the tower has expanded into a wide ballroom floor of golden marble.

Bennett dances with her, and their allies still form a ring around them, even though this ring is larger than the one in the tower.

And in between the ogres and witches are a few frogs in curled white wigs.

The scene slows to a stop and transforms into the final illustration.

"And they all lived happily ever after," the first voice reads aloud the words beneath it as the green volume shuts.

"Wow!" The second voice compliments. "That was a great story!" Then, the voice's tone turns to impatience. "Can we roll the credits now?"

The scene cuts to black, and then the opening notes of a female cover of Neil Diamond's _"I'm A Believer"_ signal the animated credits.

Ophelia flies onto the screen as the credits begin. She notices the audience out of the corner of her eye, and she halts her broomstick with a _screech._ She dismounts and looks straight at the audience, eyes narrowed in thought. Then, a mischievous gleam comes to her eyes, she pulls out her wand, and waves it at the audience. While green, hexing sparks come out of her wand, nothing reaches the audience. Ophelia cocks her head at her wand and taps it across her palm. Ophelia pockets her wand and mounts her broomstick again, flying off with an irritated sigh.

Ghostly blue smoke shapes into Bennett. His head raises to notice the audience. He smiles and bows, then dematerializes back into wisps of smoke.

Felicia flies in on Bananas.

Bananas stops in mid-air and flops onto the ground upon noticing the audience, jolting Felicia.

Felicia looks at the audience, climbs off Bananas, and roars at them.

Bananas smiles goofily at Felicia, then meanders past her to the audience, but bumps his snout into the screen.

Felicia takes the back of his long neck, pats his snout, and walks off with him.

Timmy struts in. When he sees the audience, he doffs his cap with a sweeping gesture, bows low, and when he rises and returns his hat to his head, holds out his paw with a blown kiss.

Goldilocks struts across the stage, waving and blowing kisses.

Fred flutters after her and gives a little bow in mid-air.

The Wicked Fairy flutters onstage dressed like an angel.

Then, another fairy flutters in from stage right. She crosses her arms, and her brown eyes narrow over a displeased frown.

"Oh! Sister!" The Wicked Fairy starts back with a sheepish grin.

A demon pokes the Wicked Fairy's rear with a pitchfork, and her facade disintegrates into cinders, revealing a bat-winged crone with a ball and chain hanging from her ankle.

"Thank you! Thank you!" The Wicked Fairy gives long dramatic bows with blown kisses as the demon drags her back to Hell. "I'm so glad to be given another grand performance!"

The true Fairy Godmother smiles as she gives a humble curtsy, then flies up.

Blunderbore and Sir Kay _stomp_ and _clank_ onstage. Each bow, then bow together, and they head back off single file. Well, almost.

Blunderbore attempts to cut in front of Sir Kay, but Sir Kay pulls out his sword, yelling, "None shall pass!" With that, Sir Kay strides offstage, and Blunderbore lopes off behind him.

Then, with one final, sharp note, all goes black after the last main credit.

"I Feel Pretty"

From West Side Story composed by Leonard Bernstein

Parody lyrics by Emma Weltner

"I'm a Believer"

Composed by Neil Diamond

Produced by Jeff Barry

Storywritten by Emma Weltner

Based off of the Shrek franchise by DreamWorks Animation and the book by William Steig

Special thanks to the Theorizer, Troperville, Wikishrek, Wikipedia, the Walt Disney Company, Monty Python, and Monika Bartyzel

THE END


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